Isolation
by Well Groomed Goldfish
Summary: 15 years. 15 years since democracy fell, since a tyrannical government isolated America and took the nation hostage. 15 years since Alfred was stolen, forced to turn his back on everything. For Arthur, that’s 15 years too long. Time to go rabbit hunting.
1. Chapter 1

**This was a prompt I got off the LJ meme, but since LJ's so confusing and I'm so stupid, I just decided to publish it here. Basically, America has fallen into a depression, but instead of England or Russia or some other nation trying to take over, his own government (which has been badly corrupted) decides to take its own country hostage. Trust me, the story is much better than how I'm trying (and failing) to describe it. **

**Ch. 1: A visit**

* * *

**Washington DC, 2050**

Arthur ground his teeth. The snow was falling heavily now, swirling in the air, and creating random patterns. It was a beautiful winter day, and had he not been quiet so angry and frustrated, he might have paused to enjoy his surroundings. It wasn't like this was the first time something like this had happened. He had lived for a couple thousand years now. Coups and governmental upheavals were by no means new to him. _But not to _him, Arthur thought, as he kicked up some more snow, no. Never to _him_.

His destination was approaching, and Arthur slowed, peering up at the great white building that stood before him, dark, imposing. Once he had looked forward to coming here, to seeing that bright smile, those beautiful eyes, but now….

"_The United States of America will now be withdrawing from the world stage and focusing on domestic rather than international issues."_

Arthur tensed in anger as the memory flashed through his mind…the blank expression, the bags under his eyes, the wearied slump in his shoulders and general posture…How? How had it happened? Alfred had been fine, laughing, animated, so full of life…and then…then…Arthur paused, sucking in a dry sob. He had to be strong. He only knew too well how these sick games worked. You showed one sign of weakness, one emotion, and it was over. Arthur was a master at this particular game. He had played it for centuries, keeping his heart carefully guarded, his emotions under lock and key. He had never lost it, never fallen to any others. However, this time, it would be different. His opponents had been able to get hold of his greatest weakness, the one key to his heart…Arthur stood there and closed his eyes, letting the snow swirl around him, relaxing and regaining control over his emotions. When he opened them, something had changed. The dull gleam in his eyes had transformed into something altogether much more frightening. _I am the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. I civilized half the world, ruled an empire. I am the lion, the dragon, the unicorn. And I bow to nobody. I did not fall to the French, I did not fall to the Germans, _he looked up, his eyes boring into the White House _and I will _not_ fall to these bloody traitors who dare claim to be Americans. _

He stepped forward, through the gate, his face blank save his eyes, bright green and dangerous. Nobody fucked with the United Kingdom, and nobody fucked with anything the United Kingdom cared about.

* * *

"Ah! Mr. Kirkland! So glad you could make it." The man before him was disgusting in every sort of way and manner. He was short, shorter than Arthur, and obviously lived a life of luxury. His piggy eyes squinted out under layers of flesh, and flab seemed to be on the verge of exploding out of every opening of the expensive suit he wore. He sat behind the desk, the same desk where Arthur had seen great men at, had seen great men working at, and for some reason, this, more than anything he had seen so far, drove the country nearly insane. _Calm down, boy_ Arthur steadied himself and forced his lips into a smile that was as fake as the man's before him. "I'm glad I could come too, Mr. President." He responded smoothly, his voice deep and rich, completely hiding what he really felt.

The man smirked in a self-satisfied way before continuing, "Now, as you know, the United States of America has adopted a policy of near-complete isolation. However, because of the "special relationship" that once existed between the United States and the United Kingdom, my people have graced you with the chance to speak with me, on, as you put it, "an urgent matter"?" he looked up at Arthur, the smirk still present on his face.

Arthur nodded and sat down, "Yes. I'm not going to beat around the bush", he said, his voice suddenly taking on a sharp and dangerous edge, "I'm here to see Alfred."

Whatever the man opposite him had expected, it certainly was not that, or at least not that stated in such a blunt manner. His eyes widened a fraction of an inch (how they managed to do that underneath all that fat, Arthur could not fathom) and a look of surprise flitted across his face. However, it was gone in a second, replaced once again by that infuriating smirk that made Arthur want to reach out and strangle him. "Ah…well you see" the fake President simpered, "I'm afraid Alfred isn't up to seeing anyone. He doesn't want to see you. I'm sorry. Now if that's it-"

"No" Arthur cut him off, his voice dropping down so that it was barely over a whisper, "Mr. _President_ I asked to see Alfred. If Alfred does not want to see me, he will tell me himself. To my face"

The fat man considered Arthur a second, then smiled, a sickly sweet expression. "I don't see why not." He said. "Wait here. I'll go get him for you."

With that, the man hopped from his chair, and waddled out of the room, leaving Arthur to stare at the portraits of the dead American patriots that adorned the room.

* * *

A few minutes later, and the President came back. Trailing behind him was Alfred, wearing a nice, clean suit. Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat as he ran his eyes quickly over his former colony. To any other onlooker, Alfred would have looked fine. A bit tired, perhaps, but overall, not too bad. However, Arthur's trained eyes caught all the little details; Alfred's arm was held at a somewhat strange angle, and his belly was not the usual flat abs that the young nation prided himself so on. It had swollen very slightly, partially hidden by the loose shirt the man wore, but Arthur could easily see through the cover-up. _They're starving him _he realized, the anger boiling in the pit of his stomach. And the young nation…Arthur saw red and had to grip the armrest of the chair to keep himself from just vomiting…he was limping. It was a slight limp, barely noticeable, but Arthur saw it, saw everything, and felt such complete and utter rage at the implications that the limp presented. _These fucking…._Arthur found himself incoherent for the first time in his life.

"Well, here's Alfred." the president said once he had waddled back over to Arthur, "Now talk."

"_Alone"_

The obese man glared up at Arthur, "Fine" he said coldly, "But be sure that you get in everything you want to say, as this will be the last time you will be speaking to him in a long time." he started to head to the exit, " Oh," he called over his shoulder, "And know that I have cameras in this room. Everything you say will be recorded."

Arthur smirked at the man, "I know. I would like a transcript of everything said, in fact."

The President snorted out "Fine." And was gone.

* * *

Arthur turned to Alfred. "Al…" he said, and remembering the cameras, "All you alright?"

The young nation stared at him, and Arthur nearly collapsed. His eyes were so blank, so dead, so tired. He was pale, and now that Arthur was closer to him, he could clearly see the results of the abuse the _fucking bastards_ had inflicted upon him. His face was thin and worn. His eyes seemed too big for his sockets, and his entire frame was slightly shaking from sleep-deprivation. However, as he looked upon Arthur, something seemed to stir in the back of his eyes, and he responded in a voice that had gone hoarse from hours of screaming followed by further hours silence, "Yes, well, I haven't hunted rabbits in a long time."

"Wh..What?"

"Please" Alfred continued, speaking each word slowly and deliberately, "I don't need your help. If you really want my support, talk to my government. Over the past years, has the United Kingdom ever captured anything of value for me? No. When you come and when my government then refuses to let you talk to me, why would I let you come speak to me? You won't let me go, will you? My government, they wish to form a plan that will enable me to help the planet and launch a technologically advanced super nuclear power plant. We will war against many problems existing against the environment. You think Europe is so environmentally friendly, and that even China and Asia are cutting back more? Soon, we, Americans, my people and myself, will strike and conquer this problem. With technology as advanced as ours, not much effort and hardly any land will be needed. Since, as helping you is not possible, I would like if you were to go and have fundraisers and if you got enough technology for you to really help me, please get a plant yourself. America, me, would like to help out with such a project so that, together and combined, we will be able to stop these problems. However, you, them, everyone has only been bugs to America. You will, under out orders, serve as ears to this nation", Alfred broke off and looked away, "I think I would like to go rabbit-hunting soon…"

Arthur said nothing, his face pale with shock, "Fine" he finally responded, nodding curtly to Alfred and squashing to growing urge to reach out and comfort the nation. "I will go inform the other countries of your situation and your government's motives…"

Alfred's eyes snapped back to Arthur, and for the first time since he had entered the room, Arthur felt some peace. There, in the back of Alfred's eyes was that spark of life, that indication of vitality that Arthur had come to treasure so dearly. There was hope. Tiny, fragile, almost nonexistent, but still there. Arthur leaned forward, almost touching Alfred, but not quite, "Remember Al…" he said, his voice barely audible, "If you are going through hell…keep going. You'll make it out eventually."

Alfred looked at Arthur, and finally, the tiniest of smiles pulled at his lips. Though it greatly encouraged Arthur, to see that ridiculous grin reduced to this…He gave the younger country one last sad smile and quickly turned and marched out of the oval office.

Outside, the traitor was waiting for him. "Here" he all but snarled, shoving some papers into Arthur's hands, "Your transcript."

Arthur took the recorded conversation he had just had with Alfred, looked one last time at the doors which the young country stood behind, and turned to leave the building.

* * *

Once he was sure he was out of sight of the White House, and that nobody had been sent to follow him, Arthur reached behind his ears. Sure enough, as he felt around, he found two tiny, almost invisible capsules, one behind each ear. He crushed them, taking some short sadistic pleasure in foiling the plans of the man who had planted them there. He recognized them, of course, and examined their smashed remnants with some interest. They were cameras, bugs that were intended to spy on him. The "President" had planted them, sometimes during his visit to the White House, probably when he was being searched. "Thanks for the warning, Al…" he said, throwing the remains onto the snow-covered ground before hailing a taxi that would take him back to the airport, and then, to a very important meeting.

* * *

**IMPORTANT NOTE: Before I get a bunch of comments on how strange Alfred's little speech is, or how rambly it is, or why the hell does he go off on a tangent about the environment when Arthur's trying to figure out what's wrong with him, or what the hell is up with the bunny hunting, THERE IS A LEGIT REASON FOR THAT WHOLE PART. I know the wording is very very strange, and I know Alfred's completely rambling, and makes no sense. THERE IS A REASON!!! (hint for the reason: 5) **

**Oh, and in each chapter I'm going to have a famous quote from some famous figurehead. X3 See if you can find the quote! (there's only one in this chapter)**

**Thanks and Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**So for this chapter, I was originally going to put up a disclaimer about how some of the content in this chapter might be somewhat politically inflammitory, but then I figured, hetalia basically does that in every episode. So if you see something in here that disagrees with you, feel free to tell me, but be warned. I'm totally an asshole when it comes to political debates. I mean, a TOTAL ASS. -3- **

**Honestly, I don't think there's anything that bad in here, but one of my friends who i proposed the ideas (of how America would fall in this chapter) got really really worked up. And then we ended up yelling at each other for the rest of the period. It was great. :D**

**Anywho, hope I don't offend anyone. enjoy! **

**Ch. 2: The fall**

* * *

Matthew was nervous. He couldn't sit still, and kept moving around; drumming his fingers on the table, standing up to pace back and forth between the door and his seat, thumping his leg up and down… Ludwig sent him an agonized glare, and he smiled apologetically, sitting down and trying to keep still. He glanced at the clock for the tenth time in five minutes and nearly tore his hair out in frustration. Arthur had called five hours ago, telling them that he was boarding the plane back to Canada…that meant he should be here soon. The blonde nation looked around at the meeting room they were currently in. Almost all of the countries, with the obvious exceptions of most of the Middle Eastern, African, and South American countries were present. They all looked nervous, and some, such as Kiku and Francais looked especially worried, though none were quiet as fidgety as Matthew. The ticking of the clock was the only noise in the otherwise completely silent conference room, and it only seemed to increase in volume as the minutes dragged on. Matthew leaned over and grasped his hair in his hands. Al…when was the last time he had seen his brother? When had he last heard that obnoxious laugh, seen that stupid grin? Almost 15 years now…The smile, the laugh, the spring in his step, the light in his eyes…they had all been the first to go…When Al's social security system had finally collapsed in 2035, it sent the country into a depression that rivaled, if not surpassed the Great Depression. Matt shook his head, remembering Al's uncharacteristically weary face, "Don't worry, Mattie. I've been through this before…remember? 1929? It's ok. My people are strong. We'll get through this somehow…"

However, from the collapse of social security, things only got worse. The following year, Hurricane Jess, a level 5 hurricane ravaged the Gulf Coast, annihilating the area, and most importantly, destroying the center of American energy. Oil prices suddenly skyrocketed, and with the depression, many workers were unable to pay for gas, and unable to perform daily tasks. The energy that the American public had come to rely so heavily on was no longer available, and mass chaos ran rampant in the nation. People were laid off, and vehicles and other motorized possessions were no longer worth anything. The President at the time had desperately tried to implement a sort of "New Deal", similar to the one FDR created during the Great Depression, but it, like its predecessor, failed miserably.

Around 2038, things were clearly getting desperate for the young nation. The economy was dead, the leaders were incompetent, and the people were restless, poor, and miserable. Such conditions had been seen thousands of times in history, and each time, they resulted in the same thing; revolution. The second American Revolution began in 2039, and was nothing like the first. Instead of a confederation of colonies working together to turn their ideals into a reality and create a new kind of nation, the second American Revolution was a bloody, barbaric affair. It was more like France's first Revolution, marked by the country overthrowing its elites and tearing itself up from the inside. During that whole period, nobody had seen Al, and nobody had known what had become of him. The second revolution only lasted 3 years, and by 2042, a new body of government had been established. The leader still went by the title of "president", but everything that America had stood for had been burned and destroyed in the first few months of the new regime's rule. The victorious party, The People's Equality Liberation Front, PELF, had decided that everything America had been built on, that the American creed of a laissez-faire economic structure, of individualism, of egalitarianism, of liberty, and of populism was sick, perverse and wrong. Matthew could only imagine the shock and horror his brother must have felt when DC was stormed…the Constitution, the Declaration of Independence…the great works of his founding fathers, all gone. Burned. Destroyed. Burn all, burn everything. Fire is bright and fire is clean. The fire had wiped away what America had once been, what America had stood for. Matthew gripped the sides of his chair, his vision blurring as he remembered that _bastard's_ inauguration (how _dare_ they have the gall to call it that!) speech…

"We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal. Each man the image of every other; then all are happy, for there are no mountains to make them cower, to judge themselves against…"

And thus began "The Golden Age of Equality", as the leaders put it…Matthew was shaking by now. It wasn't equality, it was oppression of the worst sort. The kind of oppression that killed the mind, not the body, the kind of oppression that didn't spill blood, but reduced man to little more than animals… Books were banned. The Library of Congress had been raided and all authors deemed "evil" had been burned. Rand. Gone. Orwell. Gone. Bradbury. Gone. Every author and work that opposed the ideals of the new order, that suggested, even implied that perhaps there was a better way to live life than just acting as mindless slaves, following the whims of the government… And Alfred knew. Alfred hadn't been broken, he was still _America_ and he still remembered when America was the land of the free, of the individual, he still remembered the time when the American Dream was still a possibility, and nobody could tell you what to think…what to do….when America was a beacon, and when Lady Liberty stood proud, her crown high, her torch erect…That fire had gone out now though. Consumed, devoured by the ever-growing greed of his own government…

And then, in 2048, six years after that _tyranny_ had been established, Al had appeared again. He came to a UN meeting, shocking everyone with his somber and broken appearance…

"_The United States of America will now be withdrawing from the world stage and focusing on domestic rather than international issues."_

And that was that. Al had pulled out of the world stage. Gone. Vanished. Disappeared. America slipped into a period of such extreme isolation, it rivaled North Korea in its obsession on who could come and who could go from the country. Beyond that, Matthew had no idea what was happening in his brother's lands. He hadn't heard anything, hadn't seen anything…there was nothing to indicate how the United States of America was faring, how it was doing. He didn't know how the people felt, how they lived, if they liked their new government (which he highly doubted) or if they hated it. The only things allowed into the country anymore, it seemed, were the illegal drug dealers, who still managed to find some way to slip past the border control. Matthew stood abruptly, too wound up to sit down…he was about to resume pacing, when finally, _finally_, the doors to the meeting room flew open and there stood Arthur.

"Arthur!" Matthew cried, rushing over to the man and dragging him into the room. "Well? Did you get any news? Were you able to see Al? How is he? They haven't done anything to him, right? I mean, he's ok-"

Arthur held up his hand effectively silencing Matthew. When he spoke, his voice was tired and heavy, "Alfred is…alive." He rummaged into his front pocket and pulled out a couple of sheets of paper. "Here", he said, proffering it to Matthew, "It's a transcript of our rather…brief conversation."

Matthew grabbed the paper from Arthur and started reading it. Once he had finished, he turned back to Arthur, his eyes full of questions. "What the hell…?" he managed to get out. Francis snatched the paper from Matthew as the other nation continued to stare at Arthur.

"What was that Arthur?" Matthew continued, beginning to become even more confused. "Hunting rabbits? Since when has Al been into hunting rabbits? And that rambling…what was he trying to say? Was he rejecting our help? What was up with that stuff about the environment? I mean, everything about that, the wording, the context it made no sense!"

"It's a code" Arthur responded, looking over to Francis, "Francis" he addressed the nation that held the transcript, "Starting with "Please" in the sentence following me saying "What?" in response to Al's comment about hunting rabbits, read every fifth word."

Francis looked up at Arthur and nodded, before turning his attention back to the papers, "Please…" he read aloud, his hesitant voice echoing through the silence of the meeting room, "help…my government…has…captured me…and…refuses…to…let me…go…they plan…to…launch…nuclear war…against…Europe and Asia…soon…and conquer…as…much land…as possible…you…have…got…to..get me…out…of here…so we…can stop them…bugs…under…ears."

A tense, shocked silence hung over the meeting room as the various nations stared at each other in dumb silence. Arthur was the first to speak, "When Al was still a…colony under my care, he passed through a strange stage where he became obsessed with espionage. He developed this primitive code. The key words were "hunting rabbits". When Al was going to speak, or more commonly, write, in this code, he would use the term "hunting rabbits" in a sentence, and the first word in the following sentence would be the start of the code. From there, you would just read every fifth word. The end of the code was marked with the same words that had indicated the start of the code, "hunting rabbits". He developed the code such a long time ago…I can't believe he still remembers it…I can't believe _I_ still remember it…"

"So…" Matthew had seemed to somewhat regain control over his senses, "Al's being held…against his will, by his government, who plans to launch a nuclear attack on Europe and Asia?"

Arthur nodded grimly. The younger nation bit his lip and sent a worried look to Francis, who was still staring, slightly open-mouthed at the transcript. "A…Angleterre.." Francis said, "What was that last part about bugs? Do they have any relevance?"

"His government bugged me when I went to go visit Al." Arthur responded, "He just thought it would be wise to tell me where they had hidden the mikes and cameras on my person. Under my ears."

"Oh." Francis nodded woodenly.

"Veee…" Feliciano suddenly spoke up, his usually cheerful face marred with concern, "S..So Alfred's going to…kill us?"

"Not Alfred", Arthur shook his head, "His government."

"Well then" Ivan stood up, his face warped into a rather insane grin, "It seems to me that the solution is obvious!"

"And what would that be?" Arthur asked, his voice guarded.

"We attack America." the Russian replied calmly, the insane smile stretching further, "Destroy his lands with our nuclear weapons before he destroys ours."

"We can't" Arthur said, through gritted teeth.

"Sorry England, but Ivan's right, aru" Wang Yao looked over to where Arthur had slightly risen in his chair, "I personally don't like the idea of destroying America either…many of my children live there, and he still owes me quite a bit of money…but if it's to save myself and my people, I will do it."

"You imbeciles, we _can't._" Arthur was standing up now, his green eyes blazing dangerously, "How many of us have the technology to compete with Al's military? None. As much as I hate to admit it, even after that goddamn revolution of his, Al's military has not weakened one bit. I think it's actually safe to say that he's grown militarily stronger…his new government has really invested into it…"

"He can't take on the whole world though…if we can nuke him first…"

"_It's not that simple_." Arthur responded slowly, "How many of have nukes? 7, officially, not including Al. Myself, Russia, China, France, India, Pakistan, and North Korea. How many of us have governments that are unstable enough to just randomly attack another country? North Korea. We can't ask him! He's crazy. Plus, knowing the level of technology he's developed, he's more likely to injure himself with the nuke then actually harm anyone else…."

"It is not randomly attacking. We have evidence that America is trying to attack us."

"Evidence from who?"

"You!"

"Exactly! And as far as the public is concerned, _I don't exist_"

"-What? Of course you exist, aru!"

"Does my public know that? Does your public know about you?"

"…No."

"Exactly." Arthur sat down now, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, "Our governments can't just go and nuke someone else…without any solid evidence backing us up. Especially with a country as powerful as America , out people are going to be very hesitant about attacking…the people…they will want proof, solid, undeniable evidence that America plans to wage war on us. Not just the word of a person who the government claims does not even exist."

"Then what do we do!? Just sit here until he nukes us, _then_ go after him!?"

"No." Ludwig had stood, looking over to where Arthur sat, "Herr England ", he addressed the nation, "Are you saying that we must…give ourselves up, so that you can inform your government, and subsequently, your people about this?"

"Are you a complete dumbass?" Romano had jumped up, his face livid, "I know you have potatoes as brains, but we can't do that! Humans can't know about us! It'd be complete chaos!"

"Would you prefer out countries nuked, our children slaughtered?"

"They're going to be slaughtered if we tell everyone who we are!"

"Well then, what do you propose we do?!"

By now, everyone was screaming. Nations took sides; get nuked and keep their identity private, or give up their identity and attack America before they were attacked themselves.

"THIS IS AMERICA!!! EVEN IF WE DO ATTACK HIM, HE'LL BE ABLE TO RETALIATE AND HURT US VERY BADLY!!!"

"Hey…."

"HE'LL RETALIATE, BUT HE WON'T BE ABLE TO TAKE US ALL DOWN!

"Hey! Let me talk!.."

"THE HUMANS WILL TRY TO KILL US IF THEY FIND OUT ABOUT THE TRUTH! YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS TO OUR PEOPLE IF WE'RE HURT! THEY SUFFER AS WELL!!!"

"I _said_, let me talk…!"

"NUCLEAR WARHEADS AREN'T EXACTLY THE BEST FOR OUR CHILDREN EITHER!!!!"

_*BANG!!!*_

There was a gunshot, and abruptly, silence filled the one chaotic room as the nations looked around for the source of the bullet. It really wasn't hard to locate, as the one who had fired the gun was standing atop the table, smoking weapon in hand.

"BLOODY HELL YOU FUCKING ARSES CAN YOU TRY SHUTTING YOUR TRAPS FOR FIVE SECONDS AND LETTING ME TALK!!!"

There was a silence, and then a sudden scramble for their seats as Arthur glared down at all of them, his green eyes filled with piercing contempt. "Now that you're all acting like civilized blokes again", he said through gritted teeth, "I have a wonderful announcement for all of you. _There are not only those two options_."

"Well then what?" Denmark called out, a look of supreme annoyance on his face, "Are you suggesting we do something like America's president proposed? That Star Wars shit? Cuz I'm tellin' you. That was a total waste of brain cells. I mean, they called it _Star Wars_ for-WHA!!"

The nation was suddenly cut off as a bullet buried itself into the wall, missing Denmark's ear by mere inches. "Shut the fuck up", Arthur growled through his teeth, "All of you just shut the bloody hell up and listen to what I have to say."

He glared around at the nations, all who had fallen completely silent and then lowered his weapon. "Like I was saying before that dunce so rudely interrupted me, there is a third option. It is risk, horribly dangerous, and has an extremely low rate of success…" Arthur paused for a second, inspecting the gun in his hand before he looked up, his face twisted in a wild and feral grin, "It's quite simple, actually. We just invade the white house, bust Al out, and use him to rally his people into revolt against the current regime."

"What would you say the chance of success is?" Denmark spoke up again, apparently recovered from the bullet that had nearly been embedded in his brain.

Arthur turned on him, the same dangerous glint in his eye. "I'd give it a 5% chance of success. Highest."

Denmark smirked, matching Arthur's. He reached besides his chair and grabbed his battle-axe, hoisting it over his shoulder, "A simple, straightforward plan, with a high chance of failure and a low chance of success." He said, meeting Arthur's green eyes with his own. "Alright. I'm in."

* * *

**Ok, so that part about the "American creed" I GOT STRAIGHT OUT OF MY AP GOV TEXTBOOK, in case anyone disagrees. (altho i do agree with it....)**

**XD and congrats to all those ppl who solved the code...i got the idea from Lemony Snicket's (the guy who wrote The Series of Unfortunate Events) fake biography. *fails***

**And the quote from last time was "If you're going through hell, keep going" -Churchill. a lot of ppl got this one so congrats! **

**there are two quotes this time, but they're from the EXACT SAME BOOK. it's on of my fav. books...and it's kinda classic, so hopefully you'll recognize it...it's an awesome book srsly. i love it. now I'm going to shut up before i end up going off on a rant about how much i love this author. whoever gets these quotes i will love forever :3 btw, the author is awesome. and american! :D **

**plz review! they really mean a lot to me! **


	3. Chapter 3

**I am such a fail patriot. I love America so much, and I'm writing this terrible fic...guhhh....*dies* The last part of this chapter really got to me. :P oh well. **

**Anywho, Please Read and Enjoy! :D**

**oh, and prussia's bird=Gilbird....b/c in reborn, hibari's bird=hibird. :D so original! **

**Ch. 3: Recollection Part 1**

* * *

"…And that's why we should call ourselves the Power Rangers. I'm red."

"Prussia, you are _not_ part of the actual rescue crew, so I suggest you shut up."

"Geez. I try to make this run smoother by gracing you with my awesome presence, but noooo. _You _have to go and, oh, what would you call it? "Get your knickers in a twist"? Yea. That. What? Are you PMS-ing or something? Cuz if you are, I think Liz might have something-GIVE ME BACK GILBIRD!"

Arthur had just snatched the small yellow bird off of Gilbert's shoulder and was clutching it in his right hand, a slightly maniacal look in his eyes. "You want your bird back?" he growled, crossing over to the window, "Then go get it." He threw the small creature out the window and slammed it shut behind it.

"GILBIRDDD!!!!!!"

Gilbert stood and raced out of the room, and Arthur, taking advantage of the man's absence, quickly crossed over to the door and locked it behind him. "Now" he said, turning to the remaining nations, "If _anyone_ has anything else stupid and pointless to say, they will be going out the _window_, since I _am not opening the door. _Savvy?"

Silence greeted Arthur as the other nations looked up at him in shock. A couple nodded their heads, but overall, no one dared say anything. Arthur smiled, "Good. Now can we please get back on topic?" more silence. "Ok. Japan, what do we have?"

The Asian nation stiffened at being addressed, then nodded, and turned back to the laptop that was in front of him. "There are three teams involved in this mission so far. The first team will actually go into America and rescue Alfred-san from the White House. There are six of you on this team. The second team will provide technical support. There are eight on this one. The final team will…provide communication between the two other teams. There are three on this team."

"Who are on the teams?"

Arthur spoke up, looking over Kiku's shoulder, "Team one will be myself, the frog, Matthew, Germany, Lithuania, and Australia. Team two consists of Kiku, China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Korea, Thailand, and Estonia. Team three, Denmark, Feliciano, and…Prussia."

"I still don't see why I don't get to be part of the first group…" Denmark grumbled.

"You stand out too much", Arthur replied brusquely, "You're too tall and too pale."

"And those eyebrows ya have don't?"

"I was the closest to Al before…the revolution." Arthur retorted, "Eyebrows or not, I'll be able to blend in _much_ better than you."

"Tch."

Arthur ignored the disgruntled country and addressed the group, "Now, we have the positions assigned, we need to better define our plan. Matthew, is it possible to get across the border?"

Matthew thought for a second, his eyes uncertain and still clouded with worry, "I…think…" he said, somewhat hesitantly, "It's _possible_…"

"That's all we need. A possibility."

"Fine" Matthew bit his lip, pausing a second before continuing, "There are two things that this new American government has let into the country. Oil, and…drugs. Many of the drug dealers are from my country, and are able to gain access into the country."

"So you're suggesting we hide in one of the weed shipments and sneak over that way?" Arthur asked.

"I...It's a possibility…we could also just sneak over the border…I mean, it's a huge border…Al's people can't patrol the entire things at all times…"

"No", Arthur shook his head, "We can't do that. The American government has basically turned the American-Canadian border into a second DMZ zone…they don't necessarily have people patrolling it, but there's mines, electric currents, the works. People aren't meant to come in, people aren't meant to leave. No, I think that our best option is being smuggled over in the weed shipments."

"But won't they have technology or something to sniff us out? I mean, if I were some paranoid government, determined not to let anyone into my nation, I would at least have things like heat-detectors or _something _to sniff out people trying to sneak across…."

"And that's where group 3 comes in." Arthur replied, indicating to said group's members. "They're the tech support, remember? They're job is to take care of all of those technological barriers."

Japan nodded, "At the moment, we are attempting to hack into American-san's GPS satellites. Hopefully, we will be able to get an idea of the border from this. Canada-san, you must talk to your drug-dealers and see how easy it will be to get into the country, and along which road you will enter America."

Matthew stood up, "I'll go take care of that now, eh?"

Arthur nodded, "Please hurry. Use any method, bribe them, threaten them, _anything_ to convince them to take us over."

Matthew smiled, "Alright, then."

* * *

Alfred watched the door close behind Arthur. Resisting the urge to go running after the older country, the nation closed his eyes and slumped against the wall, "I hope you can still remember that code, Arthur…" he muttered out loud.

Unwilling to move, and seeing no reason to do so, Alfred remained there for a few minutes, not bothering to open his eyes. How had it come to this? He could still remember the exact day when everything had just gone wrong, so, so _wrong_…

_He had been in this exact office, talking to his President about foreign affairs and relations. A secret service agent had come in, and informed them that a giant crowd of people was gathering outside the White House. Alfred hadn't been too worried; they were just probably protestors, chanting about the corrupted government or something like that... There had been so many protests, so much rioting lately…his body ached all the time, as the blood of his civilians ran freely down the street…There wasn't anything he could do about it, though. His government deported troops to break down the fighting and the rioting, but the troops never seemed to do anything… they seemed more interested in helping the rioters loot whatever they could get their hands on than actually breaking up the fights. He had felt nervous and uncomfortable that day, but had just written it off as a result of the terrible economy, not as a warning of the chaos that was to come. The agent had left, and they had resumed their talks._

_Then, almost half an hour later, something strange had happened. Alfred suddenly felt a burning pain, almost as if his heart had caught on fire. "Guuh…" he slumped forward, catching himself on the desk and clutching his chest. Motherfucking hell, it _hurt_. "Alfred?" his president had leaned forward, "Is something wrong?"_

"_M..My heart…" he managed to get out. "I..It's burning. My god, it hurts….."_

"_Your heart?" the other man had asked, confused, "But isn't your heart…?"_

_Alfred had nodded, "DC…something's happening outside …" he had doubled over as the pain intensified. It was getting difficult to stay up, difficult to see…_

_His president had come over to him, and was trying to soothe him, leaning him back and rubbing his chest in an attempt to somewhat relieve the pain. Alfred had smiled up at the man, or tried to. His face had been locked in a grimace of pain. What was going on!? He hadn't felt pain like this since…1814… No…_

_As the two sat there, they heard the first of the screams. Alfred had started up, and stood, ignoring the burning that seemed to be intensifying with every second. He crossed over to the door, and flung it open, stepping into the hallway. No sooner had he done so, when the same secret service agent who had warned him of the crowd shoved him back into the room, and followed, locking the door behind him._

"_What's going on!?" the President had asked, looking thoroughly confused._

"_Sir", the agent responded, "The crowd…they're all armed. They've overrun the White House guard, and I think are trying to kill you or something…there's just so many of them…and they've killed nearly all the security here…"_

_The screams were growing louder now, mingled with gunshots and more yelling. The agent looked around wildly, "You've got to get out of here. Now." _

"_Wha-We need to get the army or something!" _

"_We've already called them, but there's no time. We can't let them get a hold of you two…C'mon!"_

_The man had opened the door behind him slightly, and cautiously peered out. The noise had grown louder, no longer faint, but very clear, and very real. "Ok. There's no one here ye-"_

_A solitary gunshot sounded out, seemingly louder than the others, and the agent dropped dead. Alfred remembered running forward, shoving the terrible pain to the back of his mind, grabbing the agent's body, and pulling it out of the way so he could close the door. However, before he could do so, another gunshot rang out, and the doorknob was blasted off. Alfred looked up, and had seen a giant mob of people, holding up guns and charging towards him. _Shit_. He had scrambled back into the office, where the president stood, his face pale and confused. "Alfred? What's going on?"_

"_We have to get out of here, now." He had growled in response. He had grabbed one of the giant flagpoles that stood by the desk, and without hesitation, rammed it through the window. Glass shot out everywhere, raining down on the two men, and Alfred had pulled back, jabbing through the glass again, making a big enough hole for the two men to slip through. _

"_Stop them!"_

_The mob had reached the door, and swarmed into the room. "ALFRED!" his president yelled, "GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!" _

"_B…BOSS!" he had tried to reach for the man, who in turn, grabbed Alfred and shoved him through the window._

"_THAT'S A DIRECT ORDER!" the man had yelled as the mob descended upon him, "NOW GO!"_

_Alfred had landed on his back, and took one last look at his last, true President, before picking himself up and running across the White House green. _

* * *

_He had run away from the chaos that had engulfed the White House, and now stood in the streets of DC, panting heavily. All around him, chaos and disorder raged. People were fighting in the streets, screams and gunpowder filled the air. The air tasted putrid, unclean, filled with thick, heavy smoke. _What's going on!?_ He had been shocked, confused. Nothing like this had ever happened in his history…he had no idea what to do, how to handle it. The burning in his heart had now died to a dull throbbing, and he staggered around the streets, as though drunk, trying to avoid the numerous fights that were breaking out all over. The President….his gut twisted painfully, guilt and shame overwhelming him as he remembered his cowardice. Why had he run? The President had ordered it…it was a direct order…but still…He looked back in the direction of the White House. What had happened to his President? The President's wife? His three children…none over 15 yet_…I have to do something…I can't just stand here _he thought. Looking around, he realized he had somehow wound up at the Union Station Plaza. The Capitol was around there… Congress was in session today, and suddenly, Alfred was struck with a terrible notion. What if something had happened to Congress? The leaders of the legislative branch were all together in one building…what if part of the crazy mob went after them…? He shook his head. No, that was impossible. Nonetheless..it wouldn't hurt to check on them…the young nation looked around briefly and then took off, dodging the numerous bullets, and running towards his Capitol._

* * *

_No. No. NO NO NO NO. OH GOD PLEASE NO!!!!_

_It was impossible. It couldn't be. This had to be some kind of sick, perverse joke, a dream, a nightmare, anything. He would wake up soon, at home and in bed. Perhaps even the economy would be fixed. Perhaps everything had just been one, long horrible nightmare. It had to be. He stumbled forward, his feet kicking up the charred remains of the Capitol as he moved…ash fell from the sky, and he stood there, his body numb. This wasn't possible. It simply wasn't. Not possible, not possible, _not possible_!!_

_Smoke still hung heavy in the air, and the silence seemed to smother him. The fire had gone out hours earlier, but it didn't make a difference. It was gone. His Capitol was gone, his Congress dead. Rescue workers rushed about, picking up the charred, blackened bodies. "P..Please.." Alfred approached one of the workers, his voice hoarse and shaking, "W..Wh..What?"_

_The man inspected Alfred and shook his head. "Murder." He responded, his eyes hard, "Someone barricaded all the entrances to the building. The guards…they were in on this. They helped. Anyways, once the doors and windows were all secured…" the man didn't finish, and looked away, "A dark time is coming for America." He continued, "I'm leaving. I'm taking my family, and we're running to Canada, before it's too late. You should too kid. You're too young to be caught up in this kind of shit." _

"_W..Wait" Alfred had caught onto the man's sleeve, desperate, "W..What do you think is going to happen…?"_

_The man's face seemed to age in a matter of seconds, and he looked at Alfred, pity and understanding crossing over his features, "I don't know. America…I think it will…fall…"_

"_Then what should we do!?" Alfred was becoming hysterical by now, his voice uncharacteristically high-pitched and frantic."Do we fight? Do we not? Wha..What?!"_

_The man had leaned over and grasped one of Alfred's shoulder, "Stay strong. Strength is Happiness. Strength is itself Victory. In weakness and cowardice, there is no victory. When you wage a struggle, you might win, or you might lose. But regardless of the short-term outcome, the very fact of your continuing to struggle is proof of your victory as a human being. Find something you love, something that makes you happy, and keep that thing, that one precious thing close to your heart. Fight. Struggle. Don't give in to this tyranny. You will fall, you will bleed. But keep fighting. Please, for your children, never surrender." The man had suddenly pulled the nation into a hug, and Alfred noticed he too, was shaking, "Please. You are a beacon, and you always will be. Do not let yourself succumb to this evil. Stay strong, my country. Stay strong, America."_

_And with that, the man had released him and turned away. Alfred's knees promptly gave out, and he collapsed, sending ash flying as the man's words reverberated in his head. _

* * *

**MY GOD I HATE MYSELF. -3- oh well. thanks a million for all your reviews! oh, and the quotes from last time, were both from the amazing book farenheit 451. 3 GO READ IT IF YOU HAVEN'T. **

**"Burn all, burn everything. Fire is bright and fire is clean" was the first one, and the second was the "president's" speech....**

**"We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal. Each man the image of every other; then all are happy, for there are no mountains to make them cower, to judge themselves against…"**

**:D one person got it and i love them forever for it. **

**anywho, there's one quote in here, but idk if anyone'll get it....it's kinda obscure...-3-**

**please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ok. this is it. i need pshycological help, and bad. there is something seriously wrong and sick and twisted going on in my head, and i hate it. exuse me while i go beat my head against a wall for writing this terrible story.**

**I blame school. And college apps. They're making me stressed, so my writing reflects that. :D**

**Ch. 4: Recollection part 2**

* * *

_A bird hopped through the ashen remains of what had once been home of one of the greatest legislative powers of the world. Alfred was still sitting there, numb; too shocked to move, too shocked to think. He noticed the bird approaching him, and looked at the creature, his eyes helpless, desperate. "Why did they do this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What am I supposed to do…?"_

_The creature stared at him for a few seconds, before cocking its head and letting out a series of chirps, "Poo-tee-weet! Poo-tee-weet!" it cried before flying off and leaving the nation in the ruins of his Capitol. _

_Alfred watched the bird fly off, its response unnerving, unsettling, "Poo-tee-weet…" He slumped over, his head clutched in his soot-covered hands. His executive branch. Gone. His Legislative branch. Gone. His judicial branch…_No_. Alfred jerked up. What if something had happened to them?! It couldn't be…he had already lost too much. However, as he was instantly reminded by the putrid smell, this…this was never supposed to happen either. He stood up, hesitantly, slowly. The Supreme Court was right across the street from the Capitol… from what Alfred could see, it looked fine. The building was still intact, untouched by the fire that had succeed in destroying its sister branch. However, the steps leading up to the giant white pillars in front of the building were hauntingly empty. Usually, people would be rushing about, bringing cases before the judges, pushing appeals…but it was vacant. Alfred swallowed thickly and, ignoring the dull burning in his heart, lurched forward. He just had to check…had to see if it was really alright…_

* * *

"_Equal Justice under Law". Alfred murmured. How many times had he passed under these word? How many times had he been in this building, to view cases of importance, to watch his people's form of Justice at work? Now…he shook his head and pushed into the building. The first thing he noticed was the stench. Metallic and harsh, he instantly recognized from coming in contact with it too many times before…and then he saw them. The corpses, riddled with bullet holes, laying in the lobby, in the hallways...Guards, men, women…no one had been spared in the massacre. A cough echoed through the hall, and Alfred quickly located the source of the noise; an elderly woman feebly trying to sit up. "Miss. Miss" he rushed over to her, and held her up, getting her blood all over his arms. "Miss, are you ok?"_

_The woman coughed some more, a line of blood slowly trickling out of her mouth, and looked up, smiling at Alfred. She had been shot several times, the bullet holes mainly concentrated around her stomach area. "I'm dying, aren't I?" she asked Alfred, the strange smile slowly forming across her features._

"_N-Yes. Yes. I'm sorry, yes you're dying."_

_The woman closed her eyes for a second, her breathing becoming increasingly labored, but the strange, strange smile never leaving her face, "That's ok." She finally said, "I don't have any regrets. I've lived a full life, done everything I wanted…"_

"_Ma'am, please" Alfred suddenly asked her, a sense of urgency in his voice, "I…I'm sorry for seeming inconsiderate, but what happened?"_

"_There was a group of them, twenty, maybe thirty…I don't know…" the woman said, "T..They came in…so..so fast…n..nobody saw…them…coming", she paused catching her breath, "T…The guards…some…some of t…them were traitors….th…they killed the other guards…and then the group…they…they just pulled out machine guns….and…killed everyone. I…I was in the lobby…and they…it was just massacre….pure bloodshed. I…It was awful…." Her breathe caught, finally stopping and she went limp in Alfred's arms. _

_He lowered her body to the ground, shaking badly. He had seen bloodshed before. He had fought in numerous battles, seen the body of his fallen soldiers strewn everywhere, flies buzzing around and rats, the size of large housecats, gnawing at their rotted flesh. But this. This was new. Never, never had he seen this. Never had he seen the leaders of his country, fallen, torn open by bullets, their bodies twisted and deformed like some grotesque dolls. He slowly stood, shaking badly, and made his way to the Justice's chamber, already knowing what awaited him there, already fearing, already dizzy. But still, he walked forward. _

_He was vomiting. He hadn't eaten anything all day, so it was just a yellow, bitter-tasting liquid, spewing out of his mouth and splashing onto the floor. The black robes of the justices contrasted sharply with the bright red blood staining the floor, the walls, the desks. Their faces had been frozen in expressions of shock, clearly not expecting the onslaught, clearly not expecting the rain of bullets that would snuff out their lives. It was horrible. Just the sheer bloodshed that had been committed…he couldn't believe it. That humans could do this to their fellow man, in cold blood, gunning them down as they ran, stumbling over each other to escape…But there had been no escape, had there? They had all died, slaughtered like rats, carelessly, callously. The stench was overwhelming. Thick, heavy, it clogged the air, making it difficult to breathe. He tried to stand, but stumbled and fell, getting the blood all over his clothes. He sat there, trying to breathe, but choking, unable to get clean air, unable to stop the burning of his heart. _

_Why? Why had this happened? Where had he gone wrong? How had his system failed? Tears had started pouring out of his eyes and he sobbed helplessly. They splashed on the floor, mixing with the blood of American justice. _Find something you love, something that makes you happy, and keep that thing, that one precious thing close to your heart._ The fireman's words echoed through his ears, and he cried harder. _Something I love…something that makes me happy…

_Images flashed through his brain. What made him happy? He had to find it, had to grab hold of it before he lost it, before he slipped into insanity…A field…an eagle soaring above him… _freedom_.__ The faces of the men that had fought for him, died for him, smiling at him as they put their lives on their line, as they signed that fateful paper_, "I_n the course of human events"_…liberty_. The statue, "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free_" …individualism. _People marching in the streets, chanting, protesting, a man, dark-skinned and deep-voiced, " I have a dream_"…equality…._yes, these were all things that made America happy, things that America loved, but what made him, what made Alfred F. Jones happy…?_

_A young man smiled at him, his violet eyes lightening as they saw him. He clutched a polar bear to his chest, and his wayward curl bounced up and down, his face so much like Alfred's own …a smaller man, with dark hair and blank eyes. He always was polite, always guarded, but always willing to put up with, to go along with Alfred's ridiculous requests, with his games …and…and…a shorter man, his face scrunched up in an scowl that made him look absolutely adorable, those giant eyebrows pulled together, those green eyes piercing into him, able to see almost everything about him….Arthur…_

_He sobbed, clenching his teeth together as he grabbed onto the images flashing through his brain. _Hold on…hold on…hold on…something happy…these make me happy…keep them close…to…my…heart. _It was becoming harder and harder to breathe…The world was spinning, and he collapsed, falling into the blood of his dead citizens._

* * *

_When he came to, his entire body ached. His heart still hurt, as did his head, and his arms felt strangely numb…. "Ugghhh…" he moaned softly, opening one eye, slowly. His surroundings were bleary at first, and it took him a few minutes to adjust, but once he had, his stomach twisted uncomfortably and he let out a surprised gasp as he recognized his surroundings. He was back in the White House. _

"_How…?" he looked around, taking in the familiar paintings, fireplace, clock... Though the room was dark, he quickly recognized it as the Roosevelt room, "I…I'm right across the hall from the Oval Office…" he realized, pushing down the nausea that threatened to rise as his last memories of the room resurfaced…He tried to stretch his arms, only to realize that they were shackled together with iron chains. Bringing the links closer to his face, he inspected them. Even in his weakened state, he knew he would be able to break these…However, before he could do anything, the door to the room was suddenly thrown open, and Alfred involuntarily flinched back, momentarily blinded by the sudden light that flooded into the darkened room. "Hey" a voice, a woman's, spoke out, "he's awake." _

"_Well then c'mon" Alfred felt someone tugging his arm, and he looked up into the face of a young man, who looked to be in his early twenties. Alfred shakily stood up, steadied by the arm supporting him. His legs still felt weak, and his entire body burned. He lost his balance, almost collapsing, but the man held him up, and pressed what felt like the barrel of a pistol into his back, "Move" he ordered Alfred, and gave him a little shove. Alfred stumbled forward, and they exited the room, crossing across the hall into the Oval Office. _

_The Oval Office was exactly as Alfred had left it. The door was ajar, the knob blasted off, and the window was completely shattered. The body of the agent that had tried to warn Alfred and his President had disappeared, leaving only a pool of blood to indicate where he had lain. However, Alfred's eyes were instantly drawn to one thing; in the middle of the office lay his Boss, bleeding, injured, but still alive, surrounded by his wife and three children. Upon seeing Alfred enter, the President's face instantly drained of all color, and his family too paled. Alfred wanted to run forward, to whisper some encouragement to the broken family, but held himself in check, watching carefully as the man and woman who had brought him into the room led him over to the desk. _

_Another man sat behind the desk, looking over various papers Judging by the position he sat in, and the way everyone around him kept a distance and remained standing, Alfred guessed that this bastard was the one in control. As Alfred and his two captors approached, the man looked up, his pale, watery eyes meeting Alfred's own. His face instantly split into a grin at seeing the nation, and he dropped his papers, rubbing his fat hands together in delight. Though he had no solid reason to do so, Alfred instantly felt repulsed by the man, disgusted by _everything _about him. His greasy, dark hair, his pale sweaty skin, his flabby arms and legs…Alfred just hated it all. _

"_So", the man said, addressing Alfred without any preamble at all, "Care to tell us who you are and exactly what role you play, or played, in the government?"_

_Alfred glared back at the man, his hatred rising, "My name is Alfred F. Jones" he replied, his voice calm and controlled, "And I am currently a student at Harvard. I have an internship here." _

"_Oh really?" the man smirked and reached over to another pile of papers on the desk, "Then care to tell me why, exactly, your name and a file, which includes pictures and other information on you, is kept in the Top Secret papers? Your file is held at the same security level as the codes to the nuclear warheads."_

_Alfred kept his face blank, "I don't know." He lied, "I'm only 19. How could I be of any importance to the government?"_

_The man shrugged, "I wonder…do you expect me to believe that the government would make such a huge blunder?"_

"_It's a possibility."_

"_No, it's not." The man snarled, "And your file makes no sense either. Your birth date, for instance. July 4, 1776? What? This claims you're nearly 300 years old."_

"_And that's a ridiculous claim, as well as biologically impossible" Alfred said, "I'm 19. Do I look over 200 years old to you? It's an error. I don't see why I'm even caught up in this whole mess. I'm just an intern here."_

_The man considered Alfred for a second, surveying him with his pale blue eyes. The nation had the most disgusting feeling as the man looked him over, as though someone had taken a bucket of mud and poured it all over him. Finally, the man spoke up, "You're lying" he said, simply. "There's something special about you…I'm even willing to believe you're as old as this says you are…" he looked back at Alfred's file and smirked, "July 4, 1776? It's almost like they claim you are America…either way." He looked back up at the nation, the infuriating expression still present on his fat face, "Let's see if we can't get you to loosen your tongue." He gestured to one of the men standing around the room, and Alfred braced himself, ready to be hit, punched, kicked…_

_However, the blows never came. Instead a series of loud screams sounded out and Alfred spun around. One of the men had grabbed Alyssa, the President's youngest daughter. The girl was only 8, and she was struggling valiantly against the man, tears spilling over as she kicked and screamed. Her family had tried to pull her away, but more men held them back. The President and his wife were hysterical, begging and screaming, their eyes wild and desperate, "PLEASE!!! PLEASE!!!" they were pleading, their voices pitched with terror, "PLEASE! PLEASE, PLEASE DON'T TOUCH HER!!! PLEASE!!!!" _

"_MAMA!! PAPI!!!!" Alyssa was screaming, struggling…The man holding her punched her in the face, and threw her onto the ground. She let out a cry of pain, and curled up into a little ball, trying to protect herself. The man reached out and ripped off her shirt, a grin, cruel and terrifying breaking out across his face. Alfred was shocked. They…it couldn't…this wasn't happening…_

_The man produced a knife, and, with the grin never leaving his face, slashed at the girl's back. Her scream seemed to echo around the room as she arched back in pain. The second she exposed her belly, he kicked her soundly in the stomach, causing her to go flying backwards as blood spewed out of her mouth. Alfred, who had been watching the whole thing, open mouthed, sprang forward. Children had always been his weak point, and seeing Alyssa, her face contorted in pain…the chains around his wrists snapped easily, and he lunged at the man, tackling him. He was faintly aware of what was going on, faintly aware of the screaming, of the yells. Everything seemed to be slightly hazy…there was a loud crack, and Alfred felt a sharp, drilling pain in his heart, but he ignored it, continuing to pummel the guy, shoving off the hands that grabbed at him…He had killed the man on the first blow, but he kept punching, punching, punching…More hands reached at him, forcing him off. He struggled, fighting through the haze, kicking, punching…_

"_Alfred!" _

_The voice seemed to cut through the haze, clear and strong in the midst of chaos. Alfred stopped, turning to the source of the voice. His President was holding Alyssa in his arms, his face worn and scared. Alfred stared at him, tears sliding down his face "Boss…" he murmured, unable to think of anything else. There was a sudden pain in his chest, and he looked down, startled to find a hole in his chest, a bullet wound right through his heart. _

"_How…" the man at the desk was staring at Alfred. Suddenly, there was a loud noise, as though something was falling, and several of the men rushed to the broken window, just in time to see something large, something flaming falling from the sky in the distance. It was an asteroid, and as the group looked on, it crashed in the distance, a loud explosion sounding off as it made contact with the Earth. Alfred felt the pain in his heart double, and he grasped his chest, trying to control its spasms. The fat man at the desk turned around, looking at Alfred with an expression that bordered insanity. "I get it now…" he said, a crazed grin spreading across his face, "You…you're the land. You're America! That's why…that's why you're Top Secret, that's why your birth date is July 4, 1776! That's why you didn't die when you were shot through the heart!" he was giggling now, a crazed and dangerous noise, "I wonder, I wonder, I wonder!" he seemed to be singing, and he picked up a gun that sat on his desk. "What happens if I shoot you there!" he fired the gun, and Alfred felt the bullet enter his left shoulder. He let out a grunt of pain, and stumbled backwards slightly_ Washington…_he thought. _

"_This is wonderful!" the man was ecstatic, his eyes shining in delight, "If I have control over you, it's like having control over the land! And since I've found everything out, I no longer need you…"_

_With that, the man took the gun he was holding, and right before Alfred's eyes, shot the President. There was a scream, and Rob, the president's son ran forward, "DAD! DAD! Oh god...DAD!" two of the men also pulled out their weapons, and quickly filled the boy's body with lead. He dropped on the spot. The whole thing, the death of the president and his son happened in a matter of seconds. _

_Alyssa, unable to move because the blow to the stomach had broken several of her ribs, was helpless, and could only sit there screaming as her father's dead body slumped over her. She was soon silenced in the same manner he had been. Only two remained; the President's wife, and their eldest son. Alfred turned to them. He had to stop them, he couldn't let everyone die as he just sat there…however, even as he reached towards the pair, even as he heard the gunshots, even as he saw them slump over, dead, he didn't believe it. This couldn't be happening. This didn't happen. People didn't execute their head families anymore. The stench of blood was overwhelming, and Alfred could feel his body go weak. He collapsed, unable to stand the horror of what had just happened. How? How, how, how? The fat man looked over to the nation and smirked. "Don't worry. We'll work to make America, to make you a much better place...a much better nation."_

_Alfred looked up at the man, a sour taste in his mouth, "Y…you" he managed to croak out, "You killed them…the whole family…th…they're dead…you massacred the legislative branch…all 535 members, burned to death in that fire…you murdered the 9 justices…and then, and then…this! They're dead! Not to mention the civilians that got caught up in this! You're responsible for the deaths of probably over 1000 people! Dead! They're dead!"_

_Alfred had worked himself up into a rage now, and was grasping his head in his hands, the images of the dead, their blank, glassy stares looking up at him. It was torture, thinking about it, about his people, about his leaders, gone, cold, asleep. So when he felt the dull pain in the back of his head, and the darkness that soon followed, it was welcomed. Anything, unconsciousness, even death would be preferable to the hell that resided in his brain. As he fell to the ground, he could hear faintly, in the distance, the fat man respond to his accusations, his tone light, cheerful even. _

"_Yes they are dead… And so it goes." _

_

* * *

_

***shoots self* GHHAAAA!!!! I HATE MYSELF! WHY DO I FAIL SO SO SO SO BAD!?!?!?! **

**Quote from last time:**

**"Strength is Happiness. Strength is itself victory. In weakness and cowardice there is no happiness. When you wage a struggle, you might win or you might lose. But regardless of the short-term outcome, the very fact of your continuing to struggle is proof of your victory as a human being." -Daisaku Ikeda Congrats to those who got it! (i think two ppl...?)**

**There is one quote in this chapter(besides the obvious declaration of indenpendence, statue of liberty, and MLK quotes...but c'mon, everyone know those....) but since it's very important that you understand it, imma just going to reveal it now...sorry! -3- **

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **

**OK. SO I WANT TO START OFF BY SAYING KURT VONNEGUT'S SLAUGHTERHOUSE-5 IS AMAZING AND EVERYONE NEEDS TO GO READ IT. IF YOU'VE READ IT, YOU GOT THE TWO REFERENCES TO IT IN THIS CHAPTER, AND DON'T NEED TO READ THESE NOTES.**

**the bird that goes "Poo-tee-weet!" was copied directly from slaughterhouse-5. (in this case, not in the actual book) when Alfred asks it questions, it is unable to respond, and only able to jabber, "Poo-tee-weet!" the bird's inablitiy to explain "why" and its nonsense response are very important, because there IS no explination for massacre. "poo-tee-weet!" is as good as an awnser as any when explaining why people slaughter each other. The bird appears twice in slaughterhouse-5, both times saying "poo-tee-weet!" to questions that have no awnsers. **

**"So it goes" probably the most famous line in slaughterhouse-5. in the novel, it is said after every death, accidental or intentional, small or large-scaled. basically, it points to the inevitality of death, and places all deaths, no matter how large or how small at the same level. when a person dies, it is nothing. just a blip on the radar, nothing important. so in this case, the fat man, is saying that yea, he killed all of them, but it doesn't really matter...gehh...it's kinda hard to explain.**

**ANYWHO! sorry for the insanely long notes. just kinda had to explain those parts....-3- thanks so much for putting up with my sick mind...it gets better from here on out! **


	5. Chapter 5

**And we're finally done with the "let's kill the entire US government part" :D**

**Back to the main story plot! enjoy!**

**Ch. 5: Drugs and Pizza**

* * *

The building was small, dingy and rather shabby. A faded painting of a fat man with an impressive moustache and a tall chef's hat was splayed across the eroded brick wall, and the "OPEN" sign in the window constantly flickered from "OPEN" to "OP" or just "O". Above the doorway, the words "Carbone Pizzeria: Fine Italian Cuisine since 1890" was painted in faced golden lettering. Cracks where weeds had managed to push up through the concrete threaded an elaborate spider web across the sidewalk, and the bushes in front of the restaurant were unkempt and overgrown.

"This is the place?" Arthur asked incredulously, kicking up the dead, soggy leaves as he walked.

"Yea" Matthew nodded, "I know it may not seem like much, but, well...You'll see for yourself."

The pair entered the doors of the darkened restaurant and were soon greeted by a young waitress. "Table for two?" she asked smiling.

Matthew smiled in return, and nodded, following the waitress out into the dining area. The two nations soon found themselves seated at a rather small, cramped table, complete with fake, withered flowers and a cheap white tablecloth. The waitress flicked her dirty blonde hair over her shoulder and reached into the apron she wore, pulling out a notepad, "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked.

"Ah…" Matthew responded, "Two waters would be fine. But instead of lemons, could we have limes in the water?"

The waitress's hazel eyes narrowed ever-so slightly, "Sorry sir, we don't offer limes in the waters"

"Oh. Ok, of that's the case, we'll take it with pineapples then."

"Sliced or smashed?"

"Both."

Sighing, the woman snapped her notebook shut and sighed. "Serious business, huh?" she muttered to herself and turned, walking back into the kitchen. Once she was out of sight, Arthur looked over at Matthew, a single brow raised in confusion. "This place is a drug joint" Matthew responded lowly, leaning over the table slightly so Arthur could hear him better, "I just asked to talk to the woman in charge here."

"And you know this how…?"

Matthew blushed and jerked back, "Umm…well…you know…my people…I mean…"

Luckily for the younger nation, the waitress reappeared, saving him from a potentially awkward and embarrassing conversation. "Ok" she said, indicating toward the kitchen doors, "She'll see you."

* * *

The back kitchen was surprisingly clean. A few people rushed about, filling out the orders and yelling at each other. It smelled wonderful; the aroma of tomato sauce and baked crust filling the air. Arthur and Mathew followed the waitress through the kitchen to another wooden door, with a sign over it that said "Office". The waitress pushed the door open and the two nations followed her into the room.

It was a rather, dark, small office with a single desk a couple of chairs. A young woman sat at the desk, typing something furiously on her computer. She looked up when the trio came in, and waved towards a cluster of chairs that sat in front of the desk. "Sit. Let me finish this…"

Arthur and Matthew did as they were instructed. The waitress turned halfway and pointed towards the door, "Miss, should I just go back…?"

The woman at the desk said nothing, but shook her head, never looking up from her computer. Appearing considerably surprised, the girl pulled up a chair, and sat down next to Arthur. He turned to her and smiled politely before turning his attention back to the woman at the desk. She seemed to be rather young, perhaps in her mid-twenties, and had brown wavy hair that had been carelessly thrown up into a bun. A pair of black plastic-rimmed glasses perched on the tip of her nose, and her brown eyes and dark eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as she stared at the computer screen. After a few minutes of typing, the woman stopped and turned her attention towards Matthew and Alfred. She smiled at the younger nation, "Hey, love. I haven't seen you in forever. How've you been?"

Matthew smiled at her and nodded, "Good. Yourself?"

"Ah, you know. It's all business now…Especially with that shit going on down in America, the work's getting harder and harder…"

"I see", Mathew indicated towards Arthur, "Sophie, I'd like you to meet my friend, Arthur. Arthur, this is Sophie."

The two stood slightly and shook hands. Once they had sat back down, Sophie returned her attention to Matthew, "So I suppose you're here on business? You never just did come to visit…"

"Ah…yes"

"How many grams?"

Matthew's blush instantly returned and he stared at Sophie, determined not to look at the now-smirking Arthur, "I'm not here for that kind of business! I'm here for something…different."

"And what might that be?"

The young nation hesitated for a second, inspecting the trim on his sleeves "Ah…well…It's kinda dangerous…and-"

Arthur cut him off, "We need you to get us into America."

Sophie looked over at Arthur, one eyebrow arched in surprise, and the waitress, who had been silent the entire time, gave a strange sputtering noise. "We need to get into America", Arthur repeated, "There's something there that we need. Something very important to us."

"And what could be so important that you'd embark on a suicide mission?" Sophie asked.

"My brother." Matthew spoke up, his face flushed, but his eyes burning and determined, "The government's captured my brother. We have to get him out…he's suffering…"

"Your brother?" Sophie asked, the surprise evident in her voice, "Why'd your government have any interest in your brother?"

"He…he was an official in the last government…He knew some important secrets…"

"Sorry to break it to you, but if that's the case, then you're bro's probably dead." The waitress suddenly spoke up, her voice filled with anger and contempt.

"Why do you say that?" Arthur asked, his eyes narrowing.

"What do you think they did with all the higher ups? Throw them a fucking tea party?"

"I assumed they made them political prisoners."

"Hmmph" the waitress's face was flushed in anger, her eyes sparkling as she tried to keep her emotions under control. "I wish. I wish they had just taken them prisoners. I wish they had just taken them hostages. I wish. I wish…"

"It's a revolution. Blood is always spilled in such events…"

"That…that…that was….for people like them, those bastards, those traitors, a revolution is just an idea that has its bayonets! Their actions…just…unforgiveable!"

What did they do?"

"The fucking _massacred_ them. Everyone. All of DC. Murdered, burned, slaughtered! Nobody was spared. Congress. Trapped, barricaded in the Capitol and burned to death. The Supreme Court. Gunned down. All 9 justices shot, imagine it! The Capitol aflame, the Supreme Court murdered. Everyone, everything that stood in their way, destroyed! Men, women, children. It didn't matter, no, no, no! You stood in the way of a new order, a new America! Oh! Just think! Wouldn't it be lovely? To be surrounded by the smell, the stench! To watch as your mother and father fall before you, shot, dead! And then, then! To feel the bullets drilling into your body as a man you did not know, a man you had never seen before, a man you had never wronged, never even spoken to you shot you! Bang! Bang! Bang! Oh, just perfectly, perfectly _lovely!_" the waitress doubled over and let out a maniacal burst of laughter, short, high pitched and unstable. "And then! And then!" the girl continued, "You wake up! Surrounded by corpses, death, blood. The flies, oh! _The flies! _They swarmed the city, their glistening black bodies converging, _writhing_, on the corpses, their shiny wings buzzing, their red eyes seeing the death. Loving it, reveling in it, _gorging _themselves on it! I pushed their bodies, I pushed at Mama, I pushed at Papa! I tried! So hard! But the flies, they just came back, sucking, feeding, and then, then! The rats came! Oh, they were beautiful creatures! They gnawed at my parent's fingers, eating away at their decaying corpses! It was so beautiful, charming, just absolutely wonderful! The most beautiful thing in the world, to see the heart of my nation, the heart of my country, smothered in the blood of its own citizens, its own leaders!" the girl had stood up during her rant, and now fell back onto her chair, the maniacal laughter increasing in volume and her head dropping back. Sophie had also stood, and now rushed to the girl, pulling her into an embrace and whispering words of comfort into her ear. "There, there…calm down Julie, breathe, calm down, calm down…."

They sat like that for a few minutes, the girl's unstable laughter finally dying down and giving way to a gentle sobbing. Sophie finally pulled away from the waitress and stroked the girl's tear-streaked face. "You ok, honey?"

The girl hiccupped and nodded, "I'm sorry." She apologized.

"No, no. it's fine." The woman smiled. "Do you want to leave the room for the remainder of this conversation?"

The waitress tensed, and shook her head, "No." she said firmly, "No. I…I have to face this someday. I'm done running away. I…I'll be fine."

"You really should leave though."

"No."

"Fine" Sophie stood and went back behind her desk. But if you have one more outbreak, you're outta here."

"Ok."

The two nations had been watching the episode in somewhat of a shock, and now turned to Sophie for an explanation. "She…She's American." Sophie responded, "And, well…"

"I was there on the day the PELF came to Washington" the waitress interrupted, her eyes still bright with tears, "My family…my uncle was a Congressman. He was set to make some big speech or something that day, so we flew into DC to watch him. We saw the Capitol burning, and my father…he rushed forward, trying to get to his brother, trying to rescue him…but the guards…those fucking _traitors_. They shot him down. They murdered him, and then my mother. I saw the whole thing. I saw my parents die at the hands of those that were supposed to be protecting them…And then, they shot me. I survived, but black out, and when I came to the next day…it was terrible. The worst part was…those damn traitors…those bastards that sold out their country…But then, hasn't out nation been founded on just that? On lies and treason? America is a rebellious nation…Our whole history is treason; our blood was attained before we were born; our creeds were infidelity to the mother church, our constitution treason to the fatherland. I…I suppose they were just acting as true Americans should…"

Arthur felt his heart lurch and a sickness rise in the back of his throat, "America's not like that." He growled, glaring at the girl.

She looked over at him and shrugged. "Like you'd know, limey."

"How did you manage to escape?" Matthew quickly interjected before the two got more worked up.

The girl turned towards Matthew, the animosity in her eyes disappearing almost immediately. "I…I don't actually know. I passed out soon…I just couldn't take it…the smell, the sight, it was…all just, overwhelming. When I came to again, I was here."

"I'm part of an underground organization in America", Sophie explained, "It was formed shortly after the PELF took control of the American government. They sent her, Julie, here to live with me. I don't know exactly how they rescued her from DC, or all the details, but they managed to get her over before the government completely shut down the border. "

"Ah…" Arthur nodded, "I…I'm sorry to bring up such a sensitive topic…I…I had no idea…" the nation had gone pale as well, his hands tightly gripping his legs as he fought to control himself. He knew that PELF had stormed DC, knew that there had been some bloodshed, but had never imagined, never dreamed that it had occurred on such a level. _Alfred…_he could only begin to imagine how such an event must have utterly destroyed the young, naïve nation, "You said…I'm sorry to ask, but I need to know, you said that PELF killed the entire Congress and Supreme Court?" Arthur asked the waitress.

The girl, now identified as Julie, nodded dumbly. "They stormed DC, and barricaded the Capitol. They burned it down. And then they went to the Supreme Court and shot down anything and everyone that moved. The guards helped them…they betrayed us, betrayed their country...After that, the mob, they went to the White House…" she broke off, unable to talk.

"W…What? Happened there…?"

"The…they did the same thing!" Julie was crying freely now, tears streaming down her face as she talked, "They murdered them! The entire family! T…there was this little girl…the…the president's daughter…they gunned her down…the entire first family…trapped in a room…shot to death by these traitors, these bastards, and…and…"

"H…How do you know this?"

"They _recorded_ it! Those sick fucks, they released it on the news, proud of what they had done, proud of the blood they had spilled. I saw it. I saw the President getting shot, I saw his son die as he ran towards him. I saw his daughter, screaming, they all were, as her father's dead body slumped over her, and as she was _torn apart _by the machine guns. I saw his wife try to protect their oldest son, as she tried to shield his body with her own, but no. They were both murdered too. Killed, shot, dead." Julie's voice had slipped into a monotone, her body shaking from the emotional strain she was exerting and her eyes dulled and weary.

"Was…was there anyone in that video…who looked like me?" Matthew asked Julie, his face pale and frightened.

Julie looked up, inspecting Matthew. "Now that you mention it…" she said, "Yes…I think there was. He was standing in front of the President's desk, talking to the leader of the traitors...I…I don't think he was on their side though…he looked shocked, pained when the President was shot…and then seemed to be trying to stop the death of his wife and eldest son…"

"Do..do you know what happened to him?"

"No…I wasn't really paying attention, and the tape cut with him collapsing."

"O…oh…"

"Was that your brother?"

Matthew nodded mutely, his face pale. Alfred. To witness something like that…Matthew couldn't believe it. He couldn't imagine how scarring it must be for his brother…

"When did this happen…?" Arthur said, addressing Julie.

The girl smirked, a bitter and hateful expression, "July 17th. Ironic, isn't it? The families even died in the same manner…gunned down, mercilessly by extreme political factions."

Arthur felt his stomach drop, and swallowed shaking his head, "It's coincidence. Nothing more."

Julie let out a bark of laughter, "Don't get me wrong, man. Of course I don't believe in curses and shit like that."

Arthur nodded woodenly and turned back to Sophie. "We have to get into America. I don't think they've killed him, but he have to get in. We have to get him out, be it a suicide mission or not."

The woman nodded, "Have you asked anyone else?" she asked Matthew.

The nation nodded, "They've all refused. Nobody's willing to risk their necks…"

Sophie smirked, "So you came to me. How sweet. Well, I'll do it, but you know it won't be cheap. If we live through this, I'm expecting enough money to retire now and spend the rest of my life touring the world, first-class…all while having a nice mansion to come back to, back here in Canada."

Matthew nodded, "We'll pay anything, any price you ask for."

"Fine." She reached into her desk and began looking through various papers, "I'll tell you when the next shipment is ready. We'll sneak you over on that. How many of you are there going to be?"

"Six."

"Ok.." Sophie nodded again, "I'll ring you up as soon as we're ready to go."

* * *

Arthur and Matthew returned to the meeting hall in total silence, too engrossed in thought to talk. Once they had re-entered the conference room, they had thrown their coats and gloves down, their faces pulled into grim expressions.

"You didn't get it, did you?"

Arthur looked up into the gloating face of Gilbert. "Who the fuck let you back in?" he growled.

"Ha! Do you really think that something as lame as a locked door could keep something as awesome as me out?"

"Shut up, you sodding wanker." He pushed past the albino, to tired and shocked by the terrible news to even really argue.

"Power Rangers assemble!" Gilbert pushed past Arthur and yelled out to the nations, many of whom had been lounging around the room, but soon came rushing over as soon as they caught sight of Arthur.

"Did you get it?"

"He looks tired. I don't think he got it."

"Aww…damnit. I wanted to ride in a cartful of weed."

"Denmark, for the umpteenth time, you aren't going."

"Hey! That wasn't me! That was that damn Aussie!"

"…Denmark, I don't do weed."

"Sure you don't."

"would you all kindly shut the bloody hell up?" Arthur growled, glaring at the nations and ignoring a crowing Gilbert in the background who was "So proud that the nations were finally answering to their true calling."

Once everyone had quieted down and stepped back a little, Arthur cleared his throat, "We got the deal. Someone agreed to take us over…"

"Then what's up with the gloom?"

Arthur looked up, scanning the nations that had assembled there. His eyes quickly fell on the nation he was looking for; the Russian's gigantic frame stood out easily from all the other countries. "Russia" he called out the giant.

Russia looked up at England, smiling that creepy grin of his, "Da?"

"Looks like, beyond hating each other's guts, you and Alfred have something else in common."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"July 17th."

Russia's response was instantaneous. Before Arthur even had a chance to defend himself, the large nation had shoved him up against the wall, his pipe pressing up against Arthur's throat. "We do not like talking about that day, da?" the smiled had widened, frightening and unstable.

Arthur struggled against Russia, unable to breathe because of the pressure on his throat. "Russia! Oi, get off him!" Australia had stood up and, with the help of Canada and Germany, managed to pry him off of Arthur. The island nation dropped to the ground, gasping for air as he clutched his throat.

"Are you a complete moron?" Francis had sidled over to Arthur, looking incredulous, "You know we never mention that day in front of him…"

Arthur shook his head. "No. That was the day America's first family was slaughtered. That was the day DC was stormed by the PELF, the day the Capitol was burned to the ground, the day where Al's Congress, Supreme Court, and President, along with his entire family was murdered."

Everyone had fallen silent as Arthur talked, even Russia had stopped struggling, "What do you mean?" Germany asked, his face pale.

"What? Did I not make myself clear enough?" Arthur said, "Russia, do you see now? I meant no offense; I'm just saying that now…well, Al understands the pain you felt, on the same date, 117 years earlier."

Russia nodded stiffly and returned to his seat, where Ukraine (and to his chagrin, Belarus) quickly started comforting him. As the nations whispered to each other, shocked at the sudden new insight, the doors to the conference room suddenly flung open, and there stood Korea, beaming.

"We got it!" he said, all but skipping into the room, "Japan hacked into the system, and now we have a perfect idea of all of America's roads! We know which ones are bordered the heaviest, what technology each station has, and right now, we're working on how to combat this technology! We'll be ready to go in two days, max!"

Arthur nodded, "That's good. We got a way in…it's all coming together. We'll head out in a couple of days!"

"Yep!" Korea interrupted, "And Aniki said that I needed to get donations from each country before you leave this room!"

"WHAT!?!?"

"Yep! Gimme your money!" Korea had proceeded to tackle the nearest country, which happened to be Canada, demanding a "donation".

"Goddamn you China…" Arthur muttered as the blond nation struggled to keep the Asian nation from molesting him.

"Well that's strange…" Australia had come to stand by Arthur and was watching the pair on the floor wrestle.

"Sorry, but what's strange?" Arthur asked.

Australia shrugged, "We installed this super high-tech communication system thingy for them to talk to us without having to come all the way over here…Even if they wanted money, we could have just sent it over electronically…Wonder why they sent Korea instead of calling us up…"

Arthur shook his head. Someone needed to remind him again why he had agreed to team up with these idiots to sneak into one of the most paranoid and heavily guarded countries of the world.

* * *

**Gah...so I know, not a lot going on this chapter...but it should get more interesting soon...hopefully....:D**

**Anywho! two quotes in this chapter. Kudos to whoever can find them...thanks to everyone for all your awesome reviews. I love reading them, and they really really motivate me! *pointing to review button* :D **


	6. Chapter 6

**Important notes: Mathais=Denmark. **

**Also, I have no idea what to name Australia (I'm going between Jack, since it was the most popular male name in Australia for the past few years, and Steve...b/c I'm an idiotic American and when I think Australian I think Crocodile Hunter! :D *fails*) if you comment, could u please tell me which you prefer, so I can give him a name instead of calling all the countries by their human names and just leaving him as "Australia"? Thanks~**

**Ch. 6: A Technological "Breakthrough"**

* * *

It smelled. Arthur wrinkled his nose in disdain as memories of wild nights and easy sex suddenly came rushing back to him. The crates were huge; each easily large to accommodate one or maybe even two full-grown men.

"Well?" Sophie sauntered over to him, grinning.

"It stinks"

The woman shrugged. "Take what you can get. Beggars can't be choosers, you know? And get used to the smell. You're going to be surrounded by it for the next few hours and are probably going to stink of it for a few days after…"

Arthur sighed and nodded. "I know, I know…so what's the plan?"

Sophie reached into her pocket and pulled out maps from the GPS system the technological team had managed to hack. "I'm impressed your friends managed to get these…" she muttered, "Seriously, they must be some sort of technological gods or something…"

"Don't tell them that" Arthur muttered, "They've already got big enough egos as it is…"

Sophie laughed in response and pointed to the map, "We are now in Vancouver . We will be entering America through this back road." Her fingers traced the map along the said road, "Once we cross the border, it will be about a 20 min. ride to drop off point; a decent-sized town called Bellingham . In Bellingham , you will be accommodated by members of FIA and then travel cross-country till you reach DC. Any questions?"

"Yes" a chorus of voices greeted Sophie, and she looked up, surprised and unaware that the other countries had sidled over during her talk with Arthur and had heard the entire thing.

"Oh." Sophie frowned. "I thought it was pretty straightforward…Nonetheless…ok. Let's start with you." She pointed to Ludwig, who stood closest to her on her left.

"What is this fia?" the blonde nation frowned down at the woman.

"FIA" Sophie said, "Fighters for an Independent America. It's the main anti-PELF force, and I'm a member of it. While you're in America , they'll help you get to DC and save Matthew's brother."

"Wait…what?" Matthew asked, visibly confused, "We didn't talk about accommodations or anything…"

"Do you honestly think I'm so heartless I'd let you and your friends into that hellhole without any support? What were you planning on doing for housing? You know, you can't exactly just waltz into the Hilton anymore and ask for a room…same for food. Everything's government-regulated, and there's no way you're getting on that registry. You need to eat, you need a place to sleep, and you don't need to worry about those things while you're trying to rescue your brother. So don't worry, I've taken care of it all."

Matthew opened his mouth in protest, then changed his mind and closed it, smiling, "Thanks, Sophie…you're right. I had no plan for any of those things…I suppose we were just so focused on getting into the country that we didn't stop and think of those necessities…"

The woman grinned, "Hey. No problem. But remember; vacation and a nice retirement, right?"

The young nation looked up at Sophie and smiled, nodding.

"Ok" she turned to the remaining nations. "Does anyone else have any questions…? How about you?" she pointed to Francis.

"Madame" he asked, his face serious for once, "Why are we sneaking into America through this road? And why into Bellingham? It seems it would be easier to sneak in somewhere closer…"

Sophie nodded, "Each drug trader has a certain area allocated to them. If I were to try to get my shipment of weed over the border in an area outside my jurisdiction, it would be destroyed. This is my jurisdiction, so it's the only place I can get you over. Plus, I know the border guards that patrol this road very well. They usually just let me pass without even searching my load. Bellingham is also a very good town to start your mission in. The population loves my weed, trusts me, and there is a FIA stronghold there. That's where you will be staying your first night or so in America. I'm sorry we couldn't cross any closer to DC, but it was the best I could do…"

"Hey" Matthew interrupted, "It's ok."

"My turn!" Australia called out, waving his hand in earnest.

"Ok, shoot."

"Well, how're we gonna find FIA? I mean, if it's a secret organization we can't exactly walk up to some random guy and be like, "Hey! We're looking for FIA! Care to show us where it is?" ya know?"

Sophie nodded. "FIA was hesitant about helping you, and only agreed under one condition."

"I don't like conditions." Australia grumbled.

"Who does?" the brunette woman asked, "This condition's not too bad, though…I mean, the FIA just wants a representative they know and trust to guide you to their strongholds…There's seven crates for a reason."

Australia looked over. "Ok…" he said slowly, "Who's the seventh person? You?"

"Nope. I've got to talk to the guards and get us over. "

"Well then who?"

"Me." The waitress, Julie, that Arthur and Matthew had met on their first day had approached the group and now glared defiantly at all of them, her gray eyes daring them to challenge her.

* * *

Alfred closed his eyes and lay back on his bed. He had last seen Arthur almost a week ago, and his life had returned back to the same miserable hell he had to endure for the past 15 years. The blood caked on the wall and the scars crossing all over his body served as a constant reminder of exactly what those corrupt bastards would and had done. He opened one eye and watched lazily as a flies buzzed about the room, licking up whatever blood had yet to dry. They were disgusting things really…Alfred looked down at his body. Flies buzzed all around him, landing on various cuts and wounds he had, consuming the blood and sweat that had stuck to his skin…The nation shuddered in disgust at his condition. What he wouldn't do for a good shower right now…

The door suddenly flung open and Alfred winced, though he refused to sit up. There were footsteps, and someone approached the bed where Alfred lay, "Oi. Jerk." Alfred didn't move. "Get up, loser." Still no movement. "I _said_ get up, you filthy piece of trash!" this last insult was accompanied by a blow to the stomach, and Alfred jerked up, involuntarily, glaring at his assailant.

"What do you want?" he growled.

The boy before him smirked and shrugged. "I was bored. Entertain me."

Alfred rolled his eyes, "My God, he's bored. Why don't you, I don't know, go fill that empty head of yours?"

While Alfred knew that saying such things would have serious repercussions, he honestly didn't care. The boy before him was Sydney, the son of the false "President" and probable future "President." When the fat man had first taken power, the boy had only been a toddler, three, maybe four years old. 15 years later, and he had grown into a young man, cruel, selfish, and disgusting, just like his father. However, what Alfred had found most unnerving about the boy was the uncanny semblance he shared with the nation himself. Alfred was perhaps a little taller, his body definitely more worn, more abused…his eyes were perhaps a bit larger, his hands rougher…little differences like that existed, but beyond their clothing and scars, the two were barely distinguishable.

Sydney flushed, "Why don't you get it trash?" he growled, leaning towards the nation, who refused to back down, "I'm your fucking master. I'm your boss, I'm your leader. And you better fucking learn to deal with it. My father's too soft on you. When I get into power, I swear, I'm going to make what you're going through now seem like a picnic, you hear me, moron? Or can you even do that? Are you too dumb to even comprehend that?" Smirking, the boy pulled away, though not before grabbing a dagger he always carried around with him and slashing a large arc across the nation's chest.

Alfred let out a cry of pain and fell back, clutching his chest as blood spurted out. The cut was terribly deep, and would have undoubtedly killed a normal person. He looked down, cursing as he blood poured out. "Have fun with that, shithead. Looks like the flies enjoy it." Sydney said, still smirking as he slammed the door behind him.

Alfred clenched his teeth, falling back on the bed as the flies swarmed around the freshly spilt blood.

* * *

"Wait…what!?" Arthur was staring at the young girl in disbelief.

"Look" Sophie explained, "We don't have a choice. The FIA needs someone to vouch for you, and I can't go. I've got to be the one the guards see, the one that drives the truck over the border. And if I'm not back in a few days, they come looking for me. It has to be me. The guards semi-trust me. So, you have to take Julie as your guide into the FIA."

"Don't get me wrong, moron" Julie glared up at Arthur, her grey eyes piercing and determined, "I'm not doing this for you."

"Then why? What do you stand to gain by helping us?" Arthur retorted.

Julie was silent for a second, her face thoughtful. Finally she smiled, a sardonic, hateful expression, "Revenge." She replied, "I want revenge for my parents. I want revenge for my uncle. I want revenge for my Congress, revenge for my country. And I'll take it any way I can. Seems to me that if your brother's important enough that they would keep him alive, even after they murdered the president and all the other higher-ups, he's got something pretty valuable that they need. So, if we bust your brother out and mess with that fucked up government, I'm in." With that, the girl turned from the group and stalked off.

The countries watched the girl's retreating back in silence, "Spiteful little bugger, isn't she?" Australia finally spoke up.

The others nodded in silence.

* * *

Im Yong Soo hummed to himself as he ran along the road. Aniki had sent him out on a mission again, and though the cheerful, perverted nation was unable to fathom why, his elder nation seemed to prefer sending him out personally than using the phone. _It must be because Aniki realizes that he can't trust phones and can only trust me with something as important as his messages!_ Im Yong Soo realized as he hurried along.

Albeit, Aniki's messages had been growing stranger and stranger, like "Go back to China and get me a coconut" or "Go to the North Pole and go get me a Polar Bear" (ok, so maybe the Korean had cheated a little here and stolen that guy that looked like America's polar bear…but still…hopefully Aniki wasn't planning to eat the thing or anything like that…) And though Im Yong Soo still had yet to figure out why exactly a coconut and a polar bear were so vital in the RAPOAGN (Rescue America and prevent our asses from getting nuked) mission, he assumed they must have played a very vital and important part in the technological department.

He was nearing his destination, and he clutched the briefcase he carried closer to his chest. There! He saw the sign, "Carbone Pizzeria" and rushed into the building, barreling past the waitress, into the kitchen, (upsetting several pizza pies and cooks in the process) and into the back office. It was empty. Im Yong Soo frowned, perplexed. Wasn't this were Team one said they were going to meet? Huffing indignantly, the nation turned, only to find himself face to face with some very angry patrons and cooks.

"Hi!" he chirped, apparently unaware of the chaos he had caused while passing through, "Have you seen Team one?"

The person in front of the crowd, a large hairy man that looked almost exactly like the person depicted on the painting outside, started yelling at Im Yong Soo in Italian. _"Tu ragazzo stupido! Avete idea di che cosa avete fatto!?" _

The Asian nation cocked his head to the side, clearly confused, "Sorry…but I don't speak Italian…Ah! Here!" He reached into his sleeves and pulled out a small square device, "It's a translator!" he explained proudly, "Now, repeat what you said, but into this, and I'll be able to understand you! "

The man seemed to grow even angrier, _"Pezzo di merda! Giuro, sto andando a strappare il tuo gracile piccolo collo adesso!" _

Im Yong Soo frowned as the letters appeared across the screen of the instrument he was holding, "You…piece…of…shit…Hey! That's not very nice! Oh, there's more! Maybe you're apologizing! …I…am…going…to…wring…your…puny…little…ne-guuhk!"

The man had apparently decided to put his threats into action and had grabbed the country by the shirt collar and lifted him up. "Guuhaah!" Im Yong Soo cried out, surprise written all over his face.

"Hey!" Sophie had suddenly appeared, pushing through the crowd, "What's going on here? I come back to my office to get some papers and you're all beating up some tiny dude?"

The man holding Im Yong Soo flushed, and with one last grunt threw the nation to the ground. _"Bambino stupido non vale la pena il mio tempo…" _he muttered before stalking off.

"Oh yea?!" Im Yong Soo called from his place on the ground, "Well, I may be a stupid shit, but you're a…a…! Well…well… remember what you said, because in a day or two, I'll have a witty and blistering retort! You'll be devastated THEN!"

The man ignored the nation and continued to push through the crowd, soon disappearing from sight. The remaining people quickly scattered as Sophie shot them a scathing glare, before leaning over and helping the somewhat disgruntled nation to his feet.

"Hey" she said, "What's your name?"

Im Yong Soo sniffled slightly before quickly slipping into his usual carefree demeanor, "Ah! I'm Im Yong Soo! Do you know where team one is?"

"Team One?" Sophie asked.

"Yep!" Im Yong Soo nodded enthusiastically, "Arthur, and Matthew, and Francis…"

"Ah, yes." The woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Why are you looking for them?"

"I'm part of Team Three! And we need to give them these." He held out the briefcase he had managed to hold on throughout the ordeal with the Italian man.

"What is this…?" Sophie asked, reaching towards it hesitantly. She did not know this man, did not recognize him. For all she knew, he could very well be an American spy or something of the sort, and the suitcase a bomb.

"Im Yong Soo?" a voice suddenly called from the doorway, Matthew stood there, looking confused, "What are you doing here?"

"Ah~" the Asian nation skipped over to the blonde and held out the suitcase, "It's the technology we promised you! Open it! We worked really hard on it…it's super amazing!"

Smiling, Matthew took the suitcase, and set it on the desk. He then flipped open the clasps, and pushed the lid up. Inside were six pairs of contacts and a couple of cylinders as well as something that looked like bandages. "Im Yong Soo?" Matthew asked, perplexed, "What is all this?"

By now, the Asian nation was literally dancing all over the room, unable to contain his excitement at the prospect of presenting the technology to the others. "Go get the rest of Team One!" he replied, "I'll explain it to all of you at once!"

Matthew nodded, closing the suitcase, and left the room.

* * *

The six nations came back a few minutes later, cramming into the tiny office. "Now that you're all here" Im Yong Soo announced drastically, "I shall present to you the latest in spyware technology!"

With a flourish, the nation opened the suitcase, revealing its contents. "Firstly", he said, picking up the contacts "We have these contacts. Though they may at first appear to be contact lenses, they are, in actuality, cameras! We've managed to shrink the camera screen small enough so that you can contain the camera in a single lens! We've adjusted each one so that they are adapted to each one of your eye colors. They all come with a charger and each have an amazing 48-hour battery life, so you really don't have to worry about them running out. If you are not able to charge them in 48 hours, they are also rechargeable via solar energy. So stare at the sun, and they'll be ok!"

"Wh..What?!" Arthur spluttered, "Are you a moron?! We would go blind if we just sat there and stared at the sun to recharge these bloody things!"

Im Yong Soo shrugged, "Then make sure they don't run out of battery, and we'll be fine, right?"

"Bu-"

"I'm glad you understand! Moving on!" Im Yong Soo replaced the lenses and pulled out a capsule with his right hand, "Ear pieces." He explained, "These will be used so that you can keep in touch with Team two, the communication team…these things…" he reached into the suitcase with his other hand and pulled out the bandage-looking things, "Are the mikes. This way, you can communicate back and forth. Here" he held out the ear piece and mike to Arthur, "Put these on" Im Yong Soo then ran back to the suitcase, plucking out the green contacts, "And these."

Arthur took the technology, slipping the capsule into his ear, fastening the mike to his chin, and putting the contacts into his eyes.

"Well?" Im Yong Soo stepped back and examined Arthur, "How does it feel?"

The island nations shrugged, "I don't know. I mean, I can see fine, and hear fine, but I can tell it's there..Can you see it?"

Im Yong Soo shook his head proudly. "It just looks like you have a slight bandage on your chin, which if you really wanted to cover up, I'm sure makeup or something would do…those mikes were each designed with your specific skin color in mind, so they really don't stand out at all!"

"That's all that matters." Arthur nodded, "Im Yong Soo, these-"

"AHAHAHAH!!! So this is how the world is from the viewpoint of Artie! No wonder you're so pissed all the time. Damn, you're short!"

"Hey Gilbert! I want to check it out! Gimme the mike!"

"No way! This is freaking awesome! It's like I'm in his head!"

The voices suddenly exploded in Arthur's ear, so loud and realistic, he spun around, almost believing that Mathais and Gilbert, those _bloody morons, _were standing right behind him.

"It's working, isn't it?" Im Yong Soo asked Arthur, grinning triumphantly, as the other five nations and Sophie looked at Arthur, confused as to why the island nation had suddenly spun around, cursing.

"Can you hear it?" Arthur asked Im Yong Soo.

The Asian shook his head, "Nope! Those idiots can scream as loudly as they like, and nobody but you'd be able to hear it! It's absolutely soundproof!"

"Oh, that's just peachy" Arthur growled through gritted teeth.

"Oi, what's up Artie?" Australia asked, still confused as to what was going on.

"Arthur just got in touch with the communication team!" Im Yong Soo announced, "Remember? Team Two? The communication team? They serve as the link between you guys and us, back at the home base! These mikes, earpieces and cameras connect directly to them. They have six different screens for each of you, so they can hear everything you say and see everything you do!"

"…why the _hell_ did we give those idiots that kind of power…? Couldn't we just talk directly through you instead of having to go through those morons…?"

"Hey!!!" Mathais yelled, unheard by all but Arthur, "First you deny me the pleasure of going on that field trip, and riding in a crateful of weed, and now you're trying to say I can't annoy the shit out of you?!"

"Mathais, shut up!" Arthur yelled, "You're going to make me go deaf!" he turned to Im Yong Soo, his face desperate, "Isn't there any way to shut them up?"

The Asian thought for a second, then shook his head, "Nope! And there's no way to take 'em out either! For some reason, the communication team insisted on controlling the volume. We can't change it."

"WHAAAA!!" Arthur could feel his knees go weak as Gilbert's and Mathais's annoying laughter sounded off in his ears.

* * *

**:D Wouldn't that suck? To go on a super-special-awesome rescue mission and have prussia and denmark just going on in your ears the whole time?**

**AND PLEASE FORGIVE MY FAIL ITALIAN!!! I USED GOOGLE TRANSLATE!! so if you speak Italian, and know how to translate, plz don't get too offended at my fail ;A; **

**Anywho, quotes from last time...nobody got them...oh well~**

**"A revolution is just an idea that has its bayonets!" -Napoleon (julie said it)**

**"America is a rebellious nation…Our whole history is treason; our blood was attained before we were born; our creeds were infidelity to the mother church, our constitution treason to the fatherland."- Theodre Parker (again, julie said it) **

**There's only one quote in this chapter~and it's awesome. Hope someone gets it! :D and remember, reviews=love and motivation. i swear, the only reason I'm getting this story out so fast (and not sleeping. pssh. it's overrated) is b/c imma getting such amazing and well-thought out reviews! thank you so much! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Geeh....sorry it took so long to update! i had finals last week and had to kinda neglect this story during this time...;A; but since imma second-semseter senior now, i don't have to worry about school anymore and can focus more on this fic! :D**

**Anywho...thank you so much for your kind reviews! and on another note, I really wasn't able to determine the whole "Australia's name" thing...so far, we have Jack, Steve, and Cody as suggested names...if you review, please, please PLEASE tell me which one you want...i couldn't really tell which was most popular last time...**

**On another note: i am getting rid of the metiorite thingy a few chapters back...i've gotten so many comments on it, i decided to take it out....i'll replace it witho something else...soon...-3- imma gonna go back and fix all the mistakes i made (with the teams and whatnot) for those who commented on it, thanks a million for pointing it out! i would have never done anything if you hadn't...**

**ALSO! WHO'S FORGOTTEN ABOUT LITHUANIA!!!! *raises hand* XD yea...he was on team one...and then he kinda disappeared...and then i wrote him in in this chapter...so ...yea....*fails***

**Chapter 7: Entrance**

* * *

"C'mon. It's not that bad."

Arthur wrinkled his nose and sighed, stepping into the crate. Sophie grinned at him, "Hope you're not claustrophobic. You don't need to go pee or anything, right?"

Arthur shook his head, closing his eyes. "Look, just get us all packed up so we can get going. We can't afford to waste anymore time."

Sophie nodded. "Alright. Lie down."

"And Operation: Enter American via Weed Cartel has commenced!" Prussia's voice cackled through the earpiece.

"Goddamit Gilbert. I swear if you get us caught, I will _murder_ you."

"No you won't. If you get caught trying to sneak into America, they'll kill you. Therefore, it would be impossible to murder me. It's logic, my dear Watson, logic. "

Arthur growled in frustration "Don't you dare quote _my_ literature."

"Ok everyone!" Im Yong Soo had skipped over to where the nations stood, either by or in their crates. "There are two settings for these mikes and earpieces! Setting one connects you to Team Two, and Team Two Only. Setting two connects you to Team Two and all other members of Team One. So, if you want to talk on your way over, or if you ever get separated, just say, "Connect Everyone" and you'll automatically be connected to everyone. If you want to switch to the individual setting, just say, "Connect Base Awesome" and you'll be reconnected to Team Two. Does that make sense?"

"Yes" the nations responded in unison.

"Hey", Toris, who had been silent the entire trip finally spoke up, raising a hesitant hand into the air, "Just wondering, but how durable are these, exactly?"

Im Yong Soo grinned, "Glad you asked that. For your information, these systems are 100% waterproof, and are _ridiculously_ durable. We put them through the same tests we put our weaponry through. It's the best Asia can offer. Don't worry about getting dirty with these."

Toris nodded, and the Korean nation faced the others. "Any other questions concerning the technology?"

They shook their heads. Im Yong Soo nodded, and bowed, "Please" he said, his voice suddenly dropping and becoming serious, "Please. Do not fail. The safety of our world, the safety of my children, of your children, of our people…the safety of a good friend of ours rests on your shoulders…The might of Asia stands united behind you. Please" he looked up, his dark eyes showing fear and apprehension for the first time, "Please. Bring Alfred back."

Arthur felt a lump form in his throat, "Don't worry" he said, nodding and trying to smile, "We will."

"Can we get moving already?" Julie spoke up impatiently, standing in her own crate, a hand on her hip.

Arthur nodded, "She's right. We need to get going." He lowered himself into the box, lying down among the bottom of it. Sophie approached him, carrying a thin, rather large piece of wood.

"We've got fake bottoms that you'll be hiding in" she explained as she lowered the wood onto Arthur, "There are air holes in the sides of the box, so breathing will be ok. It's going to get terribly cramped and stuffy in there, but remember: No sound. If you make a noise while the guards are walking around, this whole operation is screwed. I'm counting on the guards not opening the boxes…they know I smuggle weed, and since weed's illegal, they usually turn a blind eye to it and just let me through without looking through the crates."

Arthur managed a weak smile, "Sure…hey, Sophie…thank you so much for this…"

"Hey" the woman shrugged, "Again, no worries. Just…be safe, ok? Get Matt's brother our and come back safely…you understand?"

The nation nodded again. The woman sent him one last reassuring smile at him before lowering the fake bottom down and snuffing out all light.

* * *

He was floating, drifting really, between the realms of consciousness and unconsciousness.

"Wake up."

He didn't want to. He had been dreaming, and such a wonderful dream too…Tony had been there, and hamburgers, and ice cream…

"I said, wake up!"

Why didn't they get it? He didn't _want_ to wake up. He didn't _want _to step back into the world of the consciousness, back into that misery…There was no coming to consciousness without pain, and he was comfortable, and quiet warm, content to live in his fantasy world his mind had conjured instead of facing the hellish reality…

_*SLAP!*_

A harsh blow to his face jostled him awake and he yelped, jumping up as his hand automatically flew to his face. "What the hell!?" he cried out, turning to face his aggravator.

"Why don't you ever learn?" it was Sydney, glaring at him with such animosity, Alfred wouldn't have been surprised if the boy suddenly accused him of murdering his whole family, "You know what today is. C'mon. Move."

Alfred glared at Sydney before slipping out of bed and standing up. "Yes" he responded, forcing himself to keep his emotions in check, "I know. It's the day where that bastard puts on his pretty little play, right?"

The boy smirked at him, "Call it what you will, but you know you have to play along…you know the consequences if you don't....trash."

Alfred glowered at Sydney, but said nothing, standing up instead. "Well?" he asked, keeping his face blank, "Shouldn't we get going?"

"Hold your hands out"

The nation did as he was instructed, holding his hands out as Sydney reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pair of heavy manacles and attaching them to Alfred's wrist. Grabbing the chain, the boy jerked it forward, causing Alfred to stumble forward. "C'mon, filth" Sydney said, "Let's get you fucking presentable."

* * *

After the first shower in what must have been months, Alfred was ushered into a large room. There, a group of grim-faced women dressed him in a nice suit, similar to the one he had worn when seeing Arthur, and using makeup, covered up the multiple scars and wounds all over his face and body. His hair was combed, blow dried, and sprayed with some weird shit to bring back the luster and color that had faded over the years.

"Are you idiots done yet?" Sydney stood in the doorway of the room, stuffing his face with a bag of chips, "The speech starts in five minutes. If this moron's not ready by then, I'll personally see to it that each of you and your families are removed."

The women working on Alfred paled, "Sir! Please!" a smaller woman with brown hair spoke up, "We're already done! No need to hurry! No need to hurry!"

"Good" Sydney threw the now-empty bag of chips onto the ground, "C'mon. We have to get out there, idiot."

Alfred hesitated, knowing what was waiting for him, knowing the lies and falsehoods that were about to be spread…that he was about to endorse…he hesitated, not wanting to go forward, not wanting to move, but a shove from Sydney propelled him forward and sent him stumbling out of the room.

* * *

The two came and stood behind the podium, Alfred taking the seat to the far left and Sydney sitting next to him. Though they sat behind the podium, Alfred knew only too well what was emblazoned on the front; a seal, _his_ seal, with the words, "The President of the United States of America" written around it. He gripped his hands tightly together. How dare he…how dare that man, that _pig_, stand there, where his past leaders, where men who had loved him, strived for him, worked for him….how dare he…how dare he stand where past American presidents had stood? How dare he stand and lay claim to that title, to the title that had once been granted only to the "Most Powerful Man in the World"? Alfred took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, suppressing the wave of anger was rising in him….

"…now presenting, the President of the United States of America!"

The crowd in front of the podium burst into applause. People cheered, jumping up and down, waving signs of the pig…Alfred smiled bitterly. The noise grew in volume…the sound of his people, raising their voices…the higher you scream, the greater chance you have to live…cheer for this man, cheer for this bastard, this jackass, who stole your lives, your hopes…cheer for him, he who stole your children, your dreams, your intellect, your individualism, yes, yes! Cheer for him! Cheer for him! He took your humanity from you! Your proof that you are more than some common beast, and yet! To keep your body, to keep your life, you _cheer!_

Alfred by then had blocked out almost everything that was going on. The "President" had waddled on stage, grinning and waving, his many chins bouncing as he slowly made his way over the podium…he was talking now…and Alfred was vaguely aware of some strange buzzing noise…

"_In order to form a more perfect and equal America…"_

Yes, yes,...that was all fine and dandy…equality…perfection…he'd catch bits and pieces of the speech, but would soon return to the same blissful buzzing noise that drowned out the lies the man was telling….

"_We will strive for an America where no suffering shall exist…"_

But without suffering could there be happiness? Without pain, could there be joy? No. The human race, mankind, was built on tears and blood. Their ancestors had suffered, had worked, had _bled_ to build civilization as it was today…to throw it all away and live, no, not live, _exist_ in this numb state…nobody suffered, but nobody was really happy…the world had become gray, monotone…

"…_A new America exists in the future! A new hope, a new nation!..."_

Alfred shuddered. He hated this. He hated being up here, a doll, a prop…he hated feeding his people, his beloved children, these lies…hated it all…

_Oh, Say, can you see, by the dawn's early light…_

Alfred's head jerked up in shock. He jumped up from his chair, his eyes wide, his entire frame shaking….when had he last heard those words? His national anthem had been changed, replaced with a new march when the PELF took control …But know, the words of the banned song came floating out, high, clear, and _beautiful._

_What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last gleaming?_

By now, everyone else had heard it too. The "President" had stopped talking, and looked wildly around, slack-jawed and gripping the podium with whitened hands. The audience members glanced at each other, fearful and unsure. Whisperings broke out as the entire assembly listened.

_Whose broad stripes and bright stars, thro' the perilous fight, _

"STOP IT!!!" the fat pig had apparently regained control of his senses and was now screaming at the suit-clad security guards that surrounded him, "STOP IT! STOP IT!!!!"

_O'er the ramparts we watch'd, were so gallantly streaming?_

Several of the guards had jumped from the stage and proceeded to search through the now thoroughly frightened audience. More turned to the stage itself, looking under chairs, under the podium, under the stage where the "President" was speaking…everywhere…

_And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air…_

The "President" was becoming hysterical, jumping, screaming, his piggy eyes bulged slightly out, his face red as spittle flew everywhere…Alfred looked over at Sydney….the boy had gone pale, but instead of jumping and screaming, just sat there with a dumb expression on his face…

_Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there…_

"It's coming from over here!" several of the security guards had seemed to locate the source of the music and were no rushing over to where they thought it was…

_O say, does that star –spangled banner yet wave-_

"Got it!" one of the security guards pulled his hand up triumphantly, revealing and old CD player connected to a pair of speakers. He crushed the music device, effectively destroying it and abruptly cutting the song off. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as the "President" gasped, trying to regain his composure, and the audience shifted uncomfortably. Alfred was still standing. He saw the uncertainty in his people's eyes, the doubt, and with that, a strange sense of renewed hope coursed through him. The silence was overbearing, oppressive, and as Alfred opened his mouth, he realized what he was about to do was suicide….but pressed on anyways.

"O'er land of the free and the home of the brave!"

The words fell from the nation's mouth, easy, effortless, _natural_. He heard the collective intake of breath from the audience, felt their stares; the "President's, Sydney's, his people's….they all stared at him, unsure what to do, what to say, how to react….

Sydney was the first to act. Pale and shaking, he grabbed Alfred's hand, yanking him back down. "You…are…so…dead…" the boy managed to get out, leaning over and muttering low enough so that only Alfred could hear him.

"S…Security…" the fat pig managed to gasp out, "T…take those two away…" he indicated towards Sydney and Alfred.

A group of three rather large men came over to where the boy and the nation sat, "What do you want us to do with the rest of the audience?" Alfred heard one of the security agents ask the "President" as he was lead away.

"Kill them" came the harsh response, "Kill everyone here. Gas them. Then modify the tapes for the news. This never happened, these people were never here, got it?"

* * *

Arthur moaned slightly. It was hot as hell in these fake bottoms, smelled terrible and was horribly hard to breathe. He had to keep gasping for air, cramped in the stuffy, miserable boxes. To make matters worse, Prussia and Mathais had decided to be so "kind" and entertain Arthur with a rendition of "The Phantom of the Opera"…in burps. The two idiots had just gotten through "Music of the Night" when Arthur had slightly snapped, temporarily forgetting Sophie's warning and hissing out angrily, "Why don't you two idiots go annoy someone else?! Gilbert! Don't you want to talk to Ludwig?!"

"Ehhh…" the albino's voice responded, "I would, but Feliciano's kinda hogging his mike…"

"Feliciano…oh. Yea…he was part of your team, right?"

"Exactly. And so far, the only thing he's done so far is lay claim to West's mike and babble incessantly all day..."

"…which is, I'm sure, somehow more productive than what you're doing."

"Awww…c'mon Arthur! Don't be like that!" Mathais's voice butted in, "We're providing you with quality music! Real Broadway!"

Arthur opened his mouth to argue back, but quickly silenced himself when he felt the truck they were moving on jolt to a sudden halt. There were a few minutes of silence, and as soon as Arthur relaxed, assuming they were at a stoplight or something of the sort, the back door to the truck flew open, flooding the trunk with light. Footsteps came stomping into the truck bed and paused besides his crate. The nation strained his ears. He could hear a voice, male and foreign speaking, "So, there's nothing illegal in these here boxes right?"

"C'mon sir! You know me!" Sophie's voice, light and playful responded.

The man chuckled, "Yep. And this whole time I've never seen anything illegal."

Sophie giggled in response, "Of course! Me? Illegal? Oh, I wouldn't dream of it!"

"Course you wouldn't, you sweet little thing. Now, why don't you get this truck back on the road and finish this here shipment of….carpets and then be sure to stop on your way over, hear?"

Sophie made no verbal response, but Arthur could only guess the woman had nodded or something of the sort, because he soon heard the footsteps and voices fade as the doors were closed and the world plunged back into darkness. Not too long after, the truck roared to life and lurched forward.

"Hey, Artie. Guess what." Gilbert's voice sounded low, somewhat subdued.

"What, Gilbert?" Arthur asked, rolling his eyes and expecting some immature and crude sex joke.

"We've got trackers installed in those devices…and well, you've just crossed the border. Congrats. You're in."

They drove for another 20, maybe 30 minutes before the truck abruptly came to a stop. Arthur lay in his crate, sweating and still panting for breath. The back of the truck suddenly swung open, and once again, the truck bed was flooded in light. There were footsteps, and Arthur heard voices, two, maybe three men, a woman's, and Sophie's. He couldn't really make out what they were saying, and was far too tired and miserable to really focus on them. The footsteps stopped by Arthur's crate, and soon after, Arthur heard a splintering noise, as if someone was attacking the box. The noise continued for some minutes, before it stopped completely. There were some more shuffling noises, and the weight on the fake bottom seemed to be lifted, for it shifted upward. Suddenly, the fake bottom was lifted, and light filled the crate, temporarily blinding Arthur.

"Rise and shine sweetheart" Sophie's voice said, "We're here."

Groaning slightly and slowly regaining his vision, Arthur sat up, shielding his eyes. Strong arms grabbed his owns and helped him to his feet. He wobbled slightly, and they supported him until his vision cleared and he could see straight again.

Around him, Sophie, accompanied by two men and a woman, were busy opening the other crates, loading the packages of weed onto a cart and helping the various nations out of their boxes. Arthur frowned slightly, sniffing himself. The stench of weed, sweat and wood clung to him, creating a rather gross combination.

"You stink?" a voice, close to Arthur's ear startled him and he jumped slightly. It was a woman, with brown hair and light green eyes. She wore a sweat shirt and a pair of sweats, both which were rolled up.

Arthur nodded, "Could I bother you for a shower?"

The woman threw her head back, laughing, "A Brit, huh? Don't get your type here anymore. Sorry to break it to you, but if you want to blend in, you're gonna have to lose that sexy accent."

Arthur scowled at the woman, "I'm sorry that I talk like a civilized human."

"Hey, chill dude" the woman said, still chuckling lightly and holding her hands up in defense, "My name's Brittany. Call me Brit. I'm the leader of FIA. Yours?"

"Arthur Kirkland."

"Well Mr. Kirkland" Brittany said, grinning and trying out a horrible imitation of a British accent, "Let's get you out of here and to the FIA headquarters. You can take a bath there, ok?"

Still scowling, Arthur pulled himself out of the crate and followed the woman out of the truck bed.

**And so...YEA! XD the quote from last time was: "well… remember what you said, because in a day or two, I'll have a witty and blistering retort! You'll be devastated THEN!" -Calvin and Hobbes. great liturate~Im Yong Soo said it**

**there's one quote in here! :D **

**Anywho....there are three OC's in this story, as you may have noticed....they're based off my friends, who are awesome ppl...and two of them have accounts on FF. net~:3 **

**Thanks for reading! and thanks for all the reviews! total motivation! XD**


	8. Chapter 8

**So, Autralia's name is Jack. Sorry, but majority rules...POWER OF DEMOCRACY~**

**my friend found this fic, which i really did not intend for anyone i knew personally to read... damn you jessie. just damn you. **

**Ok! new chapter! I'm sorry if this fic is taking so long...it's just my writing style to be really boring and drawn out -3- once they get moving tho, (which should be in the next chapter or so) they should get to DC pretty quick..thank you so much for all your reviews! **

**on another note, i'm going to be taking down, editing, and re-uploading chapters...so if you get a notification that chapter 3 or something is up, just ignore it...unless you want to see chapter 3 without all the grammatical and spelling errors...which I don't get why you would...?**

**BTW..."flipper-baby" is an inside joke. sorry brittany, i couldn't resist...i kno i was never part of lane 3, (i was in SPIRIT! :D) but i had to put it in. **

**Ch. 8: The Truth**

* * *

They were in a rather large warehouse, and as Arthur looked around, he could see stack upon stack of…_carpeting_. He followed Brittany past the aisles of carpeting to a rather inconspicuous trap door. The woman grasped the rather worn handle, jerked up, and opened the door, revealing a stone staircase. She entered, flipping on a light switch and filling the place with light. Arthur trailed after her, and couldn't help but let out a small gasp as row upon row of weed and marijuana plants were revealed.

"Just how…_big_…is this operation, exactly?" he asked Brittany.

"Ehh…you know" the woman responded, shrugging, "We supply the entire Pacific Northwest…so we gotta have something. But that's not why you're here now, is it?"

Tossing a small grin over her shoulder, Brittany stopped at what appeared to be a solid stone wall. She pressed down onto a charm she was wearing around her neck, and a computerized voice soon called out, "Voice-activation. Password please."

"Flipper-baby"

Arthur stared at Brittany as the system replied, "Voice recognized. Password correct." The stone wall swung open, revealing another, tiled hallway, lit with fluorescent lights. "Welcome to the main headquarters of the FIA" Brittany said, entering the hallway with Arthur trailing behind her.

"Flipper-baby?" the nation asked her, raising an eyebrow in disbelief

"Huh? Yea, what about it?"

"Umm…well, isn't it a bit, I don't know, strange?"

The woman laughed, "Welcome to the FIA, honey. We're all crazy here. Plus, if you're trying to crack the code of some super-underground operation, would you ever guess flipper-baby?"

"Point taken"

By now the pair had passed through the hallway, down another flight of stairs, and now stood before a rather large pair of double doors. They pushed through the doors, and found themselves in what appeared to be a giant lobby. There were people everywhere, rushing about, talking, yelling at each other…Brittany led Arthur across the floor to a door that had "Men's" written on it. She had picked up a towel, t-shirt, sweats and underwear from a rack that stood by the door.

"Here" she said, thrusting the clothes into his arms, "It's all clean, don't worry. There should be soap in there. Go wash off."

Thanking her, Arthur took the items and went into the men's room, making sure, much to Gilbert and Mathais's chagrin if their noisy protests were anything to go by, to take out the contact lenses before he stripped.

The other nations soon joined Arthur in the showers, each one also taking out the contacts and ignoring the chorus of protests that sounded out as soon as they did so. Francis was confined to an individual shower, and the nations took turns guarding his shower, armed with a bottle of shampoo.

Unfortunately for Arthur, Gilbert and Mathais, seeking revenge for the removal of the contacts had taken to telling horribly crude sex jokes as he washed,

"Hey Mathais! What do a rubix cube and a penis have in common?"

"Geh…c'mon Gilbert, you've already said that one before!"

"I have? Hmm….well, my awesome self doesn't remember doing that. Ok! How 'bout this one!"

Arthur bit down on his tongue to stop the onslaught of insults that was threatening to explode from his mouth. Finishing his shower, he quickly toweled off, threw his spare clothes on, grabbed the contacts, and hurried out of the bathroom.

Brittany was waiting for him outside, "Oh...You're done. That was quick." she said, upon seeing him, "Ok…let's wait of the others. Here, gimme that." She reached out and grabbed Arthur's dirty clothes, "I'll take these to the laundry…you can get them once they're done."

He relinquished his dirty laundry, and Brittany hurried off with it, returning a few minutes later, empty-handed.

By then, almost all the other nations had finished showering. Jack had remained behind to keep an eye on Francis… (Considering he had the most experience in wrestling wild animals, they figured it was the best choice…) However, even the last two nations were out in the next few minutes. Arthur, purely for the sake of communication reasons, had put the contacts back in, as had the rest of the nations.

"Ok", Brittany said, looking around, "Since everyone's here, we're gonna show you around some…Let's check out the Video Promotion crew room first. I heard they've staged some big upset for a speech the fatass is going to make today…"

The group made their way through the crowded lobby, weaving through the numerous people bustling about. They reached another door, this one marked, "VP". Brittany pushed it open, leading the group into the room. There was a relatively large crowd there, surrounding what looked to be a large TV screen. As they entered, a woman looked up from the group, "Hey Brittany! You made it! Awesome!"

"Wouldn't miss this for the world" the woman responded, grinning and pulling up a chair, "C'mon you guys, sit down."

The nations grabbed chairs and pulled them up, sitting near the back of the crowd. Arthur scanned the crowd, waiting for whatever they were watching to start…he saw Sophie and Julie in the crowd, sitting next to each other, but they didn't see him when he waved.

"Hey! C'mon! It's starting!" someone called out, and the entire crowd fell silent, their faces turned towards the large screen in front of them.

Arthur watched as the screen suddenly flickered to life. The fat bastard stood behind the podium with the seal of the President on it…he was making some sort of speech. However, almost instantly Arthur had been distracted by something else and had tuned out the "President's" speech.

There, on the stage behind the pig, were two Alfreds.

"Who…who's that guy..?" Arthur whispered to Brittany.

"Huh?" she asked, tilting her head towards him while keeping her eyes on the screen, "Which one?"

"That one…right there…on his left…"

"Oh, the two dudes who look the same?"

"Yea. Them."

"Well…" the woman cocked her head, contemplating the screen, "I don't know which one is which, but one is the pig's son, and the other some highly ranked government official…"

"Can you tell them apart?"

Brittany nodded, "Well for starters, one is wearing glasses and the other isn't….and if you look closely, you can see a large scar…on…wait…it's not there…They must have covered it up with make-up then."

"A scar where?"

"Well, he has this scar on his hand; it's huge and is kinda shaped like a star…the government official, that is, not the son…"

Arthur frowned. Alfred, like the rest of them, was covered in scars from numerous battles and conflicts, but the star-shaped one on his hand was rather new…

"Do you know how he got it?" Arthur was leaning close to Brittany now, talking in a hushed voice.

She shrugged, "According to rumor, the government branded him there so they'd always be able to keep track of him or something…kinda like that fleur-de-lis thing in France a long time ago…he's from the old government, and I don't think has been particularly cooperative with the new regime…so they marked him."

Arthur said nothing, but leaned back into his chair, processing the information. "Well?" Matthew leaned over to Arthur, "Who is he?"

"I'll explain it to you later. Let's just see where this is going…"

The two nations turned their attention back to the screen where the "President" was still talking… something about equality…and then…

_Oh, Say, can you see, by the dawn's early light…_

As soon as those words resounded through the room, it burst into applause. The crowd started cheering, whooping and high-fiving each other. Arthur looked up at the screen, where Alfred now stood, shocked and shaking. As the "President" grew more and more flustered, and the guards stumbled around, the people in the room congratulated each other. _Alfred_…Arthur couldn't take his eyes off the younger nation's face…He wasn't aware of how tightly he was gripping his chair, his fingers turning white from the pressure. All around him, the other nations were doing the same, staring at the screen, staring at Alfred, slack-jawed.

Finally, one of the guards found the CD player that had been the source of the music and destroyed it, ending the song. The room immediately started booing and cat-calling, yelling at the screen in protest. They had cut it off right before it ended! Goddamnit, they had been so close…

"O'er land of the free and the home of the brave!"

The room had instantly fallen silent as someone, no, not someone, as _Alfred_, as America, as their nation finished the song, his eyes wide and sparkling, his face flushed with happiness…

The room burst into applause again, louder this time. As Alfred and his look-alike were led away, Arthur couldn't help but feel a small seed of relief sprout within him. They, that government, that pig had failed. He had failed to kill Alfred, to kill the spirit of independence that was America. He had failed to tame that wild rebel that no-one, not even the mighty British Empire had succeeded in doing….Alfred might have been abused, starved, raped for the last 15 years, but he still stood strong, defiant against all odds.

"Cheers for that brave stranger!" someone called out, raising a fist in the air as the room continued convulsing in joy.

"That'll show them!" the woman who had greeted Brittany stood up, her dark eyes dancing in happiness, "That'll show them that America's still gonna rebel! That we're gonna fight for those liberties and freedom that are ours, by birth and by right!"

The crowd once again burst into applause. Arthur smiled. Such was Alfred's people…quick to react, easy to inflame, and passionate to the point of mania…

"Excuse me!" Arthur stood, trying to gain the attention of those surrounding him, "EXCUSE ME!"

The crowd fell silent and looked up at Arthur in mild confusion, "That man" Arthur continued, "That man is the man we're trying to rescue…That man is his brother", here, her indicated towards Matthew, "And the reason we're embarking on this "suicide mission". Please…help us get him away from that government…"

"Everyone in favor of getting that man out, raise your voices!" Brittany was standing too now, a hand in the air.

The cheer was almost overwhelming, and had it not been for Matthew glancing back at the screen, nobody would have notices what had happened next.

"Hey...everyone…?" he called out, hesitantly, pointing at the screen. Nobody took notice of him, save Jack who looked up at the screen.

"What the…?" Jack muttered, then, much louder, "Hey! Everyone! What's going on!?"

The crowd stopped cheering and looked up. There, on the screen, something had dramatically changed. The speech had been held in a large auditorium, and as the crowd looked on, the "President" and his men left the auditorium, locking it behind them. The windows were then shut, sealed off, as were the doors.

"Oh…my…no…" Brittany manages to gasp out.

"John!" the woman who had greeted Brittany stood up, "We're getting this camera feed from John!"

"What do you mean?" Toris asked the woman, "Isn't this the news?"

She shook her head, "No! Of course not! They never do anything live…this was never going to make it on the news…we knew that! One of our men, John is there…he's sending this all to us via camera…he's the one that planted the CD player and records…damnit! John! JOHN!"

The audience on screen by now had some sense of what was about to happen. Terrified, there was a mad scramble for the door. The camera feed kept rolling, as the man holding it, John, leapt up and also made for the doors. People were screaming, crying, the camera was being swung around…it was impossible to see what was happening, what was going on...By now, the group watching the feed had fallen silent, horrified as they watched their fellow countrymen rush about like maddened cattle…trampling each other in their desperate rush for the door. They surged against it, trying to break it open with sheer force, but it would not budge…Some ran over to the windows, but they were way too far up for anyone to reach….

The camera was flung out of the man's grasp, and went flying on the ground. They had a brief glimpse of a terrified face, before someone stomped on the camera and the screen went black.

* * *

Alfred sat in his room, curled up in a ball and breathing heavily. New whip marks crisscrossed over his back and upper thighs…a large gash ran up his arm…his stomach and chest had been badly bruised…He coughed, tasting a thick mixture of blood, mucus, and cum. Turning his head to the side, he spit the bloody wad onto the floor, wincing at the slightest movement…

He hadn't been abused this badly in a long time…once they had gotten back to his room, the security had proceeded to strip his shirt off…and then…Alfred shuddered at the memory…the fat pig had been there, laughing as Alfred had been beaten and fucked …Sydney had also been there, and had been smirking along his father, but there had been something off about the boy's expression…it looked fake. Forced.

Alfred frowned slightly. Sydney…the boy bothered him. Perhaps it was the semblance…but…he didn't know what to make of him…

He examined the wounds, too worn and wracked with pain to make any movement when the flies landed on the deepest cuts, licking them…a small shudder ran through him, and he leaned over the bed and wretched, heaving up yellow sickly bile.

"You don't look too good, mister." A girl's voice observed.

Alfred looked up, surprised. Sydney, accompanied by his little sister, a young girl named Ana, were watching him. He hadn't heard them come in, and eyed them warily as they approached the bed.

"Why did you do it?" Sydney hissed, glaring at Alfred, "Do you have a fucking death wish?"

Alfred smiled, "I can't die as easily as you can, unfortunately…I had to. My people needed hope. And I…I needed to hear that song again…"

Sydney said nothing, but drew back, his eyes, so much like Alfred's own, but foggy and clouded with insecurities.

Ana made a little noise, catching Alfred's attention…How old was the girl? 6? Something like that…Her bright blue orbs met his own as a freckled nose peeked partially out from behind her elder brother. They roved over him, and as Alfred met the curious stare, he couldn't help but wonder how long it would be until that gaze would be filled with the same hatred and contempt that her brother and father held for him.

"Ana" Sydney's voice cut through Alfred's reverie, "This is Alfred. This is America. This is your Papa's enemy, my enemy, and your enemy."

"Why is he our enemy?" Ana wondered aloud, "Aren't we American? Aren't we supposed to help America?"

"No, don't think like that Ana!" Sydney scolded the girl, "We're the boss of America. This worthless shit has to do whatever we tell him."

"Does he do whatever Papa tells him?"

"Of course not" Sydney snorted, "He's an idiot"

By now, Alfred had tuned out most of the conversation, already accustomed to the demeaning insults the leading family had taken to throwing at him. However, the girl, Ana, would have none of that, and she, ignoring her brother protests, approached Alfred.

"You really should listen to Papa" she said, her expression serious and voice solemn, "He's really sweet. I know that Papa can be harsh sometimes, but he really doesn't mean any harm…"

Alfred said nothing, and the girl continued,

"Papa hurt you real bad…I can see. He hurts me too sometimes. See?" she held up her arm, revealing a long, white scar, "When he gets mad, he's scary. He's always mad at you, isn't he. What did you do? Why doesn't Papa like you? I think you look like a nice person, even though you aren't one. You look like Sydney, did you know that?"

"ANA!" her brother caught her by the arm and dragged her back, "That's enough! You don't talk to trash like him! He doesn't understand what Papa did for this country!"

Alfred glanced up at the boy, one eyebrow raised in disbelief, "And what was that wonderful thing he did? How has my life improved since that fatass came into power? Are you fucking blind? How is this…" he swept his arm out, indicating to the filth and grime of the room, "And this!" he pointed to himself, the fresh wounds still oozing blood and pus, "How is this any better?!"

Sydney flushed, and lashed out at the nation, striking him across the face. It didn't hurt, not really, just a slight sting, and Alfred couldn't help but smirk. "You bastard!" Sydney yelled, his face flushed, "Don't you dare insult my Papa! He brought you liberty from those fat, upper-class capitalist pigs! He made your people equal!"

Alfred let out a laugh, deep and cynical, "Liberty? When liberty comes in hands dabbled with blood, it is hard to shake hands with her…especially when her hands are soaked in the blood of my loved ones. What your dear "Papa" brought was not liberty. It was tyranny, a dictatorship. And equality? Everyone's equal, you're right! If they're too smart, kill them! If they're too pretty, kill them! If they're too athletic, too tall, too short, too fat, kill them, kill them, kill them! America never supported equality! My nation, my people supported equal opportunities! Everyone had a right to rise, everyone had a right to make their own path, to build their own future with their own two hands! That is what American Equality is! That is what the American Dream was! That is what equality was, what equality is supposed to be! Not this, this…massacre of anyone who is born into this world more blessed than a fellow man!"

Sydney was shaking in rage now, "It's equality!"

"It's bloodshed! Have you seen them? Have you seen those slaughtered corpses, those empty stares? Have you? Have you? Do you realize what your precious "Papa" is going to do to all those people at the speech today?! And for what? Because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time!"

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" the boy took a step back, covering his ears with his hands, "This is why I hate you! This is why I love seeing you on the floor, beaten, bleeding! I can't stand you! It's wrong! I know it is! I've seen those faces, I dream about them every night! I see the blood, the horror, and I hate it! But I keep telling myself! It's for the good of my people, it's for the good of America, it's for the good of you! And then you! You come, and turn everything upside down! You point out the flaws in the system, the reality, the _truth_! And I hate you for it! Let me live in this fantasy, let me _survive_ in this sick, twisted world! Goddamnit, I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!"

With that, the boy turned from Alfred and fled from the room, slamming the door behind him.

"I think you upset brother" Ana observed.

"You don't say kid…" Alfred sat back onto the bed, shocked at the boy's sudden outburst. So he realized what was going on? He realized it was wrong? Then why did he endorse it…? Why did he continue to support a system he knew to be a failure…? It just made no sense…

"He likes living" Ana said, her face oddly blank, "He doesn't want to die. That's why. You wouldn't understand. You can't die like us…It's a survival method."

Alfred looked at the girl, open-mouthed, watching her as she, without another word to the nation, left.

* * *

**Quote from last time: "There is no coming to conciousness without pain"- Carl Jung**

**There's one quote in here~have fun finding it! :D Altho, I really, REALLY wanted to throw in a matrix reference during sydney's breakdown...but "the matrix" was banned in this society. poopy. **

**Oh, and I meant to tell ppl this earlier, but kinda forgot. The reason I have this whole quote thing going on is because this fic was written because of a quote. I saw a quote from churchill, liked it, wanted arthur to say it, started thinking...and somehow ended up here (after remembering this prompt). yea...like i said, my brain's messed up...-3-**

***lesigh* i was totally thinking about actually adding the beating/rape scene...and i had actually written the beating scene...but then i got to the rape part...and kinda realized that i can't write rape. mebbe i should've asked julie to do it for me (she's a great rape writer! 3 and an awesome person~) but then this fic would've become M-rated...not that that's bad....-3-oh well...i'll just leave it to your imaginations! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**So new chapter...not much going on, more talking than anything...-3- they're going to get moving next chapter, I PROMISE. ;A; **

**Mei-Taiwan**

**Ch. 9-Books**

* * *

"So you wanna go from Bellingham to DC. Correct?"

"Yes"

"Tch. Well, you can only really travel during the night…the patrol's way too heavy during the day, and it's illegal to be in gatherings of more than three people without any prior governmental approval and supervision…so that's what? 7, maybe 8 hours of travel a day…yea. I'd say you'll get to DC in about 10 days."

Matthew bit his lower lip, "Ten days, huh…"

"Yep" Brittany threw down the map she had been looking at, "Tell you what. You know those techy friends of yours?"

"Yea…what about them?"

"You need their help again" the woman responded, glancing over at Matthew, "You need a full and complete map of all the American roads. If they've already hacked into the GPS system, then they should also be able to pull up a map of American itself, right?"

Matthew nodded, "I'll ask them…Umm…Gilbert? Mathais? Feliciano?"

"Hey kid, what's up?" Gilbert's voice responded a few seconds later.

"Can you connect us to Team 3?" Matthew asked.

"Sure thing. Why can't you just ask us though?"

"Ummm…it's a technical issue" Matthew said, "I think it'll be better if I just talk to them directly instead of playing telephone."

"Ok. Whatever floats your boat…" Gilbert started messing with the buttons and wires before him, trying to connect the right ones together…there! "Ok kid. You're connected."

"Thank you…"

"Hello?" a woman's voice, low and melodic soon responded.

"Ah…Mei!" Matthew cried, blushing for some reason that was completely beyond him, "We need maps of America, you hacked into the GPS system, right? So can we get maps?"

The Asian nation inspected the screen she had been studying, "We have maps of America…" she said slowly, "But we can't get them to you…"

"Why not?"

"How are we supposed to do it?" Mei responded, "It's not like we can telepathically send it to you…"

"Oh yea…Shit" Matthew said, feeling dumber by the minute.

"Tell you what" Mei said, "We'll direct you instead. Like a GPS system. We'll just tell you which was to go and whatnot…ok?"

Matthew smiled in relief, "Yea. That would be great."

* * *

"Francis?" Toris cautiously approached the other nation, ready to run at the slightest sign of groping or any other perverted activity "You wanted to see me?"

The blond nation looked up, and upon seeing Toris, smiled, "Yes. I asked to see a few of you…Ludwig and Jack should be here…ah, speak of the devil."

Ludwig and Jack had both appeared at the entrance of the room. The four nations were in the now-empty video room, with only the black, blank screen serving as a reminder to what had transpired mere hours earlier. "I called you here…" Francis said, looking around as Jack and Ludwig entered, closing the door behind them, "Because there's something we need to talk about…without Arthur or Mattieu hearing…"

"Jeez, Francis, get on with it already", Jack said, frowning slightly, "I don't like talking behind their backs…makes me feel kinda like a traitor…"

Francis nodded, "Very well" he looked down and sighed before looking back up, "I called you here…to discuss…" he paused, frowning slightly before continuing, "Alfred's mortality."

"What!?" Toris looked shocked, as did Ludwig and Jack, "What do you mean by mortality!? Alfred's a nation! He's one of us! He won't die from things that kill humans…"

Francis shook his head gravely, "You're right. Nations don't die easily….However what matters is that, they _can_ die. We are most susceptible when our country is in turmoil, when are people are unhappy, when that dreaded upset, _revolution_ occurs." Francis shuddered slightly and ran a hand over his eyes as memories of his own blood-soaked revolution suddenly resurfaced in his mind, "Revolutions are times of great upheavals" he continued, "They are times when, essentially, the people change. When such a thing happens…during these revolutions…nations, as you know, pass through a brief period of mortality. In other words, when a nation is gripped by something like a revolution, where the potential of a new nation taking the old nation's place exists…the nation becomes mortal."

"_Mein gott…_You're right…" Ludwig said, his face paling as he realized what Francis was saying, "When a nation undergoes revolution, they _are_ mortal…"

"Wait" Jack was now looking quite upset, "If a nation dies, then what happens to the people?"

"A new nation is born, one that supports the ideals of the new regime…one that better represents the people than the old", Francis looked horribly tired as he continued, "Nations, after all, represent the people. If there is another being created that can better represent the overall whims and beliefs of the people, that being will better serve the purpose of the "Nation", the old will die, the new will be born…after all, isn't that what a revolution is? A birth of a new regime, a new ideal?"

"But how is that possible?!" Jack exclaimed, "You…you survived your revolution!"

Francis nodded, "I survived my revolution. Barely. I was able to adapt to my people, and was spared the kiss of Madame Guillotine…had I been executed, I would have undoubtedly died...The more extreme, the more radical, the more violent the revolution, the greater chance the country has of dying…Alfred's revolution was nothing short of pure massacre. And that boy in the tape…" Francis shook his head, "He looks too much like Alfred for this to be a coincidence…"

"No!" Toris was breathing heavily now, shaking his head, "Alfred won't die! He's too strong…"

Francis shook his head, "I think….that if the government tried…they _could_ kill Alfred at this point…"

"And that boy would become the new America?" Ludwig asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Francis nodded, "If they try…and succeed in killing Alfred…I believe that boy will become the new America…if that happens, all hope is lost. That boy…will represent the ideals of the new regime…any hope of rescuing America the country will be gone…the boy doesn't have Alfred's endurance, Alfred's determination…you saw him…he was weak. Spineless. A coward. And he will bend to every whim and order of the government. The boy…he had nothing that Alfred had, that all nations need. The American people will forever be oppressed, and the American government will be free to launch its attacks on the world."

"My god…" Jack looked horrified, "If Arthur or Matthew found out…"

"It would destroy them. Arthur…I think he knows…no. I know he knows this. He's been around too long, seen too many old nations, old empires fall to the same fate…he knows Alfred's death, at this point is possible…he's just in denial. If…he accepted it…it…it would kill him. He'd panic…insist on doing stupid things, making poor moves in his fear…Mathieu would react in a similar way…those two…they can't handle even the possibility of Alfred just, _not being there_. Don't tell them this, don't let them know about this…We need for them to be able to keep a cool head…"

Nodding solemnly, the group of four split, each lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

Arthur was inspecting the car, running a critical eye over the vehicle. It was large, deigned to fit at least ten people, and though he would have preferred a smaller, sleeker mode of transportation, he supposed this would have to do.

"Not the most beautiful thing, but you'll have to deal with it."

A voice interrupted Arthur's inspection, and he looked up, startled. Julie stood there, watching him as he looked over the vehicle, and now sauntered over to where he stood. "It's the latest design…runs on a combination of solar energy and petroleum…So if it's sunny, you can charge it up, but if it's not, you've got to switch to the gas mode…it'll be more than enough to hold all of us and our luggage…assuming, of course, we pack very, very light." She ran a hand over the front of the car, "It's designed for rough terrains, so we'll be able to go through the back roads…and since we're traveling during the night, we can charge during the day…"

Arthur nodded, "It's charged, right?"

"Yep. It's ready to go. All's you have to do is load it and hit the road."

Again, the nation nodded, before turning and facing Julie, "How did America fall…how did he-it, I mean, let such a government take over…?" he didn't know why exactly he asked her. The words had just come spilling out, a plea for some plausible answers...he still found the idea so hard to believe…that Alfred, that America, so strong, so confident…could fall into such a state…

Julie frowned, "The PELF…was formed years before the fall of America, I think in the 2020s…They were at first just seen as a radical, doomsday group…However, they predicted the fall of America…exactly as it happened. Once the nation realized that the PELF had predicted everything, they came flocking over to them…The "President", that fat bastard…is talented." She shook her head, "You know the story. The country is lost, in turmoil. The people don't know what to do, they're desperate. Then, along comes this man. He can talk, and the people believe him…believe his lies, believe his promises. He is undoubtedly one of the great orators of the 21st century. He preached equality, a world where the upper class did not exist…and used the upper class as scapegoats, pointing the problems of America to them…he became horribly popular…everyone that had suffered in the least was soon following him…Then, came the fall of DC…and well, the rest is history."

"The American people…don't they realize their mistakes?"

"Yes", Julie nodded, "The FIA is gaining tons of support…even of you didn't commence with this rescue mission, I have no doubt that, within the next five, maybe ten years, the PELF will be destroyed. The "President" believed too strongly in equality…he's committed too many atrocities against the American people…and he knows it."

"What do you mean?"

"He's become desperate to stay in power. You saw what he did to those people today…it just goes to show how far he's willing to go to remain in control…he still has his pretty words, but after a while, he knows that the people will not stand for such things…you can only go far with words, you know…a handful of soldiers is always better than a mouthful of arguments. I just look forward to when the people snap and do to him what he did to my parents…" Julie broke off, smiling.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably at the girl's expression. "What happens…if the PELF finds the leaders of the FIA?"

Julie's grin widened, "No other offense has ever been visited with such severe penalties as seeking to help the oppressed…do you really need to ask?"

Arthur shook his head before looking down and inspecting his reflection in the glass of the car window, "So this country has plunged into another Civil War...Not North against South, but organizations against organizations…"

There was a bark of laughter, and Arthur looked up, surprised, "Civil War?" the girl asked, "What does that mean? Is there any foreign war? Isn't every war fought between men, between brothers? This…this is no different. Both sides are American, both believe they have a better way to improve this hell. Don't get me wrong. The FIA has committed its fair share of atrocities. We've murdered those that support the PELF, we've committed acts that would classify as "terrorism"…there's no good guy here, no bad guy. Only the one with the most guns wins. Remember, to the victor goes the spoils…whichever side wins this struggle will be the hero, whichever side looses will be seen as the villain…Isn't that why the good guy always wins?"

"I don't care who's the good guy and who's the bad guy", Arthur responded, frowning, "I have one interest and one alone. That's to complete this rescue mission and get Alfred out. If that means siding with the FIA, then so be it."

"It's nice to know that you have such a clear motive." She sighed. "Whatever. You know what I'm in for. If that means I have to put up with you, so be it."

* * *

The door swung open, and Alfred looked up, startled. Sydney stalked in, holding a tray of food scraps and flushing lightly. Stiffly, the boy deposited the tray by the nation's bed, and refusing to look at Alfred the entire time, turned to leave.

"Sydney , wait."

The boy halted, "What do you want?"

"Come here."

Sydney did not move, and for a few minutes, Alfred thought the boy was going to ignore him. However, he soon turned, and with his face partially hidden by his bangs, marched over to where Alfred sat on the bed.

"What do you want?" Sydney demanded.

"I think you know."

"Look, if it's about what I said yesterday, I think it's fair to let you know that I didn't actually mean any of it" Sydney had started fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he talked, "I…I was…stressed. Tired. I couldn't …care less about that…trash that died."

"Liar" Alfred responded, not convinced in the least.

"I am not a liar!"

"Yes you are."

"Are not!"

"Are too."

"Are not!" with this last exclamation, Sydney lashed out at Alfred. However, the nation had seen the wild attack coming and caught Sydney's wrist easily in his own bloodstained hand . Ignoring the pain that instantly laced his arm at the movement, Alfred tugged Sydney down so that they were eye-to-eye.

"Are too."

Sydney's flushed darkened, and he quickly turned his head so that Alfred could not see his face, "Are not" he muttered sullenly without any conviction in his voice.

"Then why are you afraid to look at me?" the nation challenged.

"What do you mean?" Sydney whipped his head around, and glared at Alfred, blue meeting blue. As if burned, the boy quickly turned away, unable to nation's gaze for more than a few seconds. Those few seconds, however, had been more than enough to convince Alfred. The boy's eyes had been uncertain, clouded with doubt, fear…and guilt. Yes, guilt had undoubtedly been there, shining brightly in Sydney's eyes. Was the guilt a result of the slaughter he had seen committed and done nothing about? Or was it something else…?

"Let go of me" Sydney, sounding like a petulant child, interrupted Alfred's musings.

"Huh?"

"I said, let go!"

"No" Alfred shook his head, "Not until you tell me what you're really thinking."

"You! How dare you-!" Sydney by now had started to thrash, trying to jerk his arm from the nation's grasp. Though Alfred was much stronger than Sydney, one particular jerk sent an intense pain shooting up the nation's arm and he let go. Sydney, not expecting the sudden release, went sprawling backwards, hitting one of the grimy and bloodstained walls.

"You trash!" the boy cried out as the crap on the wall smeared his jacket, "My jacket! You...you ruined it! You-" he had turned to face the nation, but paled upon seeing Alfred and the words instantly died in his throat. Something had fallen out of his jacket when he had gone flying backwards…something small…something born of words and paper, of ideas and dreams….Alfred had darted forward as soon as he saw it, and now stood, looking at Sydney with a look of complete shock on his face.

"You…please…" Sydney took a step forward, his face instantly transformed from the look of fury to one of complete fear, "Please…please…don't say anything…" he was shaking badly now, his face drained of all color and his hands reaching towards Alfred.

"_Anthem_" Alfred responded quietly, reading the title of the book that had fallen out of Sydney's jacket, "_Anthem_ by Ayn Rand…you…were you…?"

"Y…Yes. I…I was r…reading it."

"This is one of the "forbidden" books…all books before the Second Revolution were banned….burned." Alfred turned the book over in his hands as he talked, "Rand was on the list of "Most Dangerous" authors…how did you get this!?"

"F…Father…has a huge collection…of nearly all the forbidden books…he…he says you have to know, you have to…understand the enemy…so…he alone keeps single copies of the books…I snuck into his collection…and…and…stole it…I didn't mean anything! I…I was just curious!"

Alfred remained silent for a few seconds, flipping through the book, "Is this the first "forbidden book" you've read?" he finally asked.

Sydney bit his lip, and stared up at Alfred, saying nothing.

"Talk" Alfred threatened, "Or I'm yelling and security will come in."

"O…Ok!" Sydney shook his head, wringing his hands in despair, "No! There! Happy? It's not my first book…it's not!"

"When did you read your first book?"

"…Four years ago."

"You've been reading forbidden books for four years!?"

"I didn't mean to!" the boy was shaking his head now, "I…I was in the collection…and F…father wasn't there!" tears had started to form in his eyes, "I…I was curious…so…I picked a book off the shelf…I…I wanted to know _why_. Why the books had been forbidden, why they had been banned! I…I read it…and it became a drug…I read one…and then another, and then another, and then another…I couldn't stop! It...those books, they provided relief, they provided _freedom._" The boy had stopped shaking now, "I…I felt like I was alive, and for the first time in my life, I was able to do something. Those pages…those words…I could read about anything…go anywhere…it was _escape_. Escape from this hell, escape from this freakish nightmare…they're the only reason I've come this far…when things got especially bad…when I was forced to witness an execution, or something of the sort, I'd go back and read the books…they numbed the pain, made me forget about it…Please…you've got to understand…"

Alfred listened to Sydney's rant, somewhat surprised at the words that came pouring out of his mouth, "What was that book?" he asked, "That first book you read?"

"Greek mythology."

"And you liked it?"

Hesitantly at first, but slowly becoming more enthusiastic, Sydney nodded, "I loved it…I loved the stories, the monsters…I loved how you didn't know how things were going to turn out…they were wonderful, _wonderful_ stories…" slowly, as he talked, Sydney 's face started regaining color, "I especially loved the heroes…Hercules was somewhat stupid, but he was so strong and ready to do anything…his strength got him in trouble, but he was always willing to work to get out of it, to atone for whatever sin he had committed, even when it wasn't his fault…and then Odysseus, forced to travel the world after the Trojan War…he had so many adventures! He was different than Hercules, guided by wit rather than pure strength…His wife, remaining loyal to him all those years, refusing suitor after suitor…waiting for him to return, and he did! He was the only one who could bend his bow, the only one who could shoot it through the axes! I don't know if I liked what he and his son did at the end too much though…" the boy's features had changed drastically as he got more into the subject, his face was flushed with happiness, and his eyes, for the first time since Alfred had seen the boy, were clear.

Alfred couldn't help but smile as the boy launched into a speech about the great Greek heroes, talking freely, easily about the ones he liked, the ones he didn't, his favorite parts…And Alfred realized, that, for the first time, Sydney was finally, _finally _free.

* * *

**So yea...I think that Sydney's prob going to be the most dynamic character in this fic, b/c well, i can't really develop the nations...and yea. It's kinda funny, actually b/c all the OCs are based off my friends, with the exception of Sydney. (and the "President") He was 100% totally stolen from another book. You'll figure out what book, eventually. -3- it's kinda obvious....**

**Also, in my head cannon, nations can only die when the people of the nation no longer associate with them. When a revolution occurs, there is an upset of "who" the country is, so at that time, the country is capable of dying...so, yea. Alfred's capable of dying now....**

**anywho! quote from last time, "When liberty comes with her hands dabbled in blood, it is hard to shake hands with her"- Oscar Wilde. One person got it~congrats! :3**

**two are in here! hope y'all can find them! remember! plz review~**


	10. Chapter 10

**Ok...so I forgot to do this for the last chapters, but yea. Hetalia characters and Sydney are not mine. They belong to their respective owners. The president and the other OC's are. **

**:D this fic is actually nearly done~i'd say maybe five chapters left...but then, knowing me, it'll end up being more liek 8 or 10....but, no. i really think this'll be done in five chapters...give or take a couple. **

**blehh...but i have mock trial and college interviews coming up soon.....*worryworry* ;A;**

**and i've been getting such wonderful reviews on this! i'm sorry if i don't respond to all of your reviews, but know i really really appreciate them, and they really really motivate me! thanks!**

**Ch. 10-Father**

* * *

Things had changed drastically since the day Alfred had found the copy of _Anthem_ in Sydney's coat. The boy started coming in more and more often, his demeanor changing drastically. The stiffness between his shoulders disappeared, the perpetual frown he seemed to always wear faded…They would talk for hours, discussing various literature they had read, which authors they liked, which ones they didn't…

"I didn't like all the books I read…_Heart of Darkness_ was somewhat confusing…as was _Moby Dick_…"Sydney stared thoughtfully at the ceiling from his place on the floor, "I only read about half of _Heart of Darkness_ before I gave up…and I skipped most of _Moby Dick_…I mean, c'mon, I don't need to know all the details about whaling!", he laughed before frowning slightly," The message that book told was certainly frightening though…"

"Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago." Alfred quoted, "Yes…it certainly was, wasn't it?"

Sydney stared at Alfred, then nodded, "Yea…" he suddenly blushed and looked away, "I…I don't know…I mean, if someone like Ahab and his crew are just…swallowed up, destroyed, _insignificant_ after…after all that…if…if such an epic struggle results…results in just _nothing_, in them just…just dying…with only a single sailor afloat on a piece of driftwood to tell the tale, then why do it? Why chase the white whale? Why go out to sea? The land…the land is safe. It is secure. You can see where you're going, what you're headed for…so why does Ahab go to sea? I…I got the sense that he _knew_ he was going to fail, that there was no way he could triumph…so why? Why did he do it? It just doesn't make sense! You don't know what happens after death, you don't know where you're going to go when you die!" Sydney had started to get more worked up, "That's why! I'm afraid, don't you see? I'm afraid to die, because _I don't know what's out there!_ I'm not brave, like Ahab, I can't get on the ship…I cling onto the land, desperate, just wanting to survive…" Sydney broke off, a bitter smile tracing his mouth, "You probably think I'm just some sort of coward now."

Alfred had said nothing during Sydney's outburst, studying the boy carefully. He remembered when Melville had first published_ Moby Dick_…it hadn't been a popular book, rejected and criticized by the public…he had picked it up at some second-hand book store and read it, not expecting anything…And had been blown away. It was the first time he had actually questioned his _own_ significance, his own death…and Alfred had remembered just how frightened it had made him. Now Sydney, reading the novel for the first time, was experiencing almost the exact same thought process that Alfred had first undergone upon reading the book…it was unnerving honestly, the similarities he shared with this boy…and while Alfred couldn't help but feel some relief at having someone to talk to, it still made him horribly uncomfortable.

* * *

"That's the last of them, isn't it?" Arthur paused looking around before slamming the trunk closed. They had decided that Matthew was going to drive, since he was probably the most reliable and least dangerous driver of the group.

"I'm saying, if _I_ had come, you could've just had me drive." Mathais drawled, as the group loaded up into the car.

"Mathais", Arthur responded, exasperated, "Last time we let you drive, you insisted on driving one-handed, while sticking your head and _axe_ out the window, and _hacking_ at any car or object, moving or not, that passed by!"

"Yea! That was freaking awesome! I mean, c'mon, did you see how I eluded the police? Hah! They didn't stand a chance against my mad axe skillz!"

"You were _arrested_."

"…was I?"

"Yes. Yes you were. You crashed into a light pole while trying to escape and threw up before passing out. You were just too drunk to remember."

"Excuse me" Ludwig, looking rather annoyed spoke up, "If you two are done, could we please get going?"

Matthew smiled softly as he put the key in the ignition, started the car up, and with one last wave to Brittany, Sophie, and the other members of the FIA that had come to see them off, headed off in the direction of DC.

The sun had fully set by the time the group got onto the road, "You're going to continue down this road until I tell you otherwise" Mei's voice gave directions to Matthew, who nodded, not taking his eyes off the unpaved road, lit only by his own car lights. They had to travel at a relatively slow pace, unable to see, and unable to predict the winding back road.

"We're going to stop in Idaho today" Julie spoke up, "that's where the next "stronghold" is…not exactly the most exciting state, but it'll have to do, right?"

Arthur shrugged, "Move during the night, charge during the day…I just wish there was a faster way to _get_ to DC…" he looked up from the older map of America he had been inspecting into Jack's concerned brown eyes that had been staring at him rather intently for a good proportion of the trip. "What?" Arthur snapped, somewhat uncomfortable by the stare, "Is there something on my face?"

Jack snapped back and smiled apologetically, "N…No, of course not…no, no. I'm sorry."

The sun had just started to rise, peeking out from behind the mountains when they reached their next stronghold. From there, it was a stop in Montana, then in Minnesota, and then in Illinois…it had been almost five days, and they had stopped in Indiana for the night when the first real incident happened, courtesy of, according to Arthur, a certain "bloody frog." They were parked outside the FIA stronghold, a church in the town of Columbus, Indiana. It was a good-sized town, and similar to other towns of its size, the streets were generally patrolled by soldiers, especially after curfew. They had just arrived at the church, shortly after dawn, and Francis had stepped outside for a spell, muttering something about just "taking a quick smoke". The rest of the nations had remained inside, talking to the young, and rather handsome pastor that had agreed to shelter them this particular night. They had only been there for five, maybe ten minutes at most, when shouts were suddenly heard from the outside. Startled, the nations realized that there was no time to get up into the attic, which was where they had initially planned on hiding, and had jammed themselves behind the altar, the only semi-suitable hiding place in the church. It was a fairly simple church, with only the altar in the front and rows of pews facing it. No sooner had they succeeded in concealing themselves when the doors of the church burst open, and several American soldiers came storming in.

"This is a house of God!" the pastor was hurrying besides what was obviously the soldier in charge, "How dare you enter in such an unclean manner! The Church begs that you leave, lest the wrath of our Lord be invoked upon you!"

"Listen, pretty-boy", the solider had finally stopped, and glared down at the young pastor, "Yer' gonna need to explain this trash then!" with a wave of his hand, the head solider summoned two others, each carrying the arm of a rather apologetic and worried-looking Francis.

The Pastor stared at Francis for a second, a look of horror flitting across his face. However, this was quickly banished, and with a hoarse cry, he ran forward, flinging his arms around the neck of the blonde nation, "Pierre!" he sobbed, clinging onto Francis, Oh! Pierre! We were so worried about you!"

"Ye' know this trash?"

"Y…Yes." The pastor wiped his eyes and looked up at the solider, "He's my cousin…Pierre. He came from France when he was only a little boy, 12 or 13…He…" the pastor looked away as though ashamed, "He's retarded. He…can't speak English…can only babble in French…it's…terrible…you must understand…His mother, she was desperate…we…we had no choice…"

The solider glared down at the Pastor, and for a brief second, Arthur, watching the entire scene unfold from his hiding spot, thought that the soldier was going to let Francis go. However, the large solider smirked and turned to the two holding Francis, "Al right. Ye' know what we do with retards."

Nodding, the two turned, clearly intent on dragging Francis away, "Wait!" the pastor ran forward, "Pierre! Pierre! No! You can't take him!" the pastor grabbed onto the soldier's arm, but the man threw him off with little effort.

_Shit_. Arthur cursed, watching as the soldiers led Francis away…they couldn't let anyone…even the frog get captured on this mission…should he interfere? No…that'd only result in him getting captured as well…

As he was debating what to do, he failed to notice the other solider, creeping up on him with his weapon raised…

_*BANG!*_ a gunshot sounded out and the solider that had been sneaking up on the nations dropped, dead. Startled, the group behind the altar looked up, only to find themselves surrounded by five or six other soldiers. The pastor, the one who had fired the gun, now turned to the soldiers holding Francis, shooting them both dead in succession.

"Bloody hell…" Arthur cursed under his breath, quickly pulling out the small handgun he always kept in his right boot and firing at the solider closest to him. Mathais and Gilbert had started war-whopping in his ear and making bets as to how many bullets each nation could fell an enemy solider with, "Bet Artie can't get the soldier with one shot! Ha! Two! That's pathetic!"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up", Arthur growled into the mike as he narrowly dodged an onslaught of bullets from another solider. By now the other nations had also gotten out their weapons and joined in on the fray. The soldiers, caught off guard were quickly repelled.

"EVERYONE TO THE CAR!" Ludwig roared out, shooting down another solider. The nations ran for the door, pausing only to fire and extra bullet or two over their soldiers. Julie was the last one in, slamming the door behind her, "The pastor!" she cried out, "We need to get him!"

"Goddamnit, we don't have time to play hero!" Arthur yelled, but jumped out of the car nonetheless, running back into the church. By the time he got there, the pastor was already dead, his white robes splayed out under him and stained with a bright crimson blood. "Get him!" a cry sounded from the right, and Arthur looked up, only to find a herd of soldiers charging at him. One had a camera, and Arthur thought she might have succeeded in getting a picture of him, but he didn't pause to find out. He ran back outside, jumped into the car screaming, "GO GO!!!!"

Matthew, pale-faced and at the wheel, nodded. He slammed down on the accelerator and without really looking as to where he was going, drove out of the town, leaving behind the sound of gunshots.

* * *

"Did you hear?" Sydney had come into Alfred's room, closing the door securely behind him and crossing over to where Alfred lay on the bed.

"Hear what?"

Sydney studied the nation for a few seconds, "I was with Father today…he wants me to learn the ropes of the job…" here the boy wrinkled his nose slightly in disdain before continuing, "Anyways, so some guys come running in, all panicked and whatnot…turns out some people, a party of seven managed to sneak into the country. And get this." Here, Sydney looked up at Alfred, a slight grin on his face, "Apparently they got photos of the people…and Father took one look at them and screamed, "England! That fucking Kirkland bastard! I knew he was going to try something!" Looks like your friends haven't abandoned you after all."

Alfred had listened to Sydney's brief account in complete silence, a smile breaking across his face as the boy finished his recollection, "Are those the photos?" he asked, indicating an envelope Sydney held in his hands.

Sydney glanced down, looking at the envelope, "N…No. This…this is something more…serious."

"What do you mean?"

Sydney slowly opened the envelope, pausing for only a second before drawing the contents out. It was a photograph indeed, though not of the nations. A young man looked into the camera, a huge grin split over his face. His handsome features were accented by the sunlight that streamed over his blonde hair. A young woman stood next to him, laughing as her arms wrapped around his waist, and his arm circled her shoulders. He wore a cameo uniform, standard of the US military. His blue eyes looked up at the two from the photograph, overflowing with confidence, brimming with hopes and dreams. His smile spoke of a future, of hardships overcome, of triumphs gained through hard work. "Who is he?" Alfred asked, looking over at Sydney.

The boy sighed, "He…was born in the projects of New York, raised in the very backwash and scum of American society…he grew up in a gang and violence-filled world…his mother was a common prostitute, his father, a drunk. He was abused by both his parents, and his sister, his sole light in the world, died one day when his father was in a drunken rage…he always blamed himself for her death, and tried, on several occasions, to kill himself. However, he failed each time…and eventually gave up, deciding that to atone for his sister's death, he would make it so that no child would ever have to suffer as she did…he grew up, working like a madman, and eventually through part-time jobs and scholarships, had enough money to attend college. He applied to Harvard, was instantly accepted, and went to college for eight years, receiving his PhD for law upon graduation…afterwards, he decided to join the army, which is where this picture came from…the woman in this photo was his lover at this time, and future wife…he served in the army, came back home, and started a law firm…" Sydney broke off, his voice cracking slightly, "I…I never got to meet him…he died before I was born, leaving only an empty shell and a few photographs behind…"

"Sydney…" Alfred said slowly, unsure of what to say.

"That man…"Sydney shook his head, "Is my father."

Alfred looked at the photo, the shock not quiet leaving him. "He's...wait, you're adopted?"

"What?" now it was Sydney's turn to look shocked, "Wha-where did you get that idea?!"

"You just said this man was your father" Alfred responded, pointing at the man in the photograph.

"Yes. He is."

"Then…oh." Realization dawned upon the nation and he looked down at the photograph, "No…way…"

"Yep" Sydney nodded, "He's changed, hasn't he?"

"How…how…?"

"How did he change so drastically?" Sydney asked bitterly, "I don't know. Truth be told, I only know about this because my mother told me…she said, he changed once he joined PELF…he was idealist, at least, that's how she described him…" Sydney shook his head, "He wanted and equal America, one where the government provided everything for you…he wanted a America where nobody would have to suffer and work as hard as he did to get anywhere, where nobody could just get something because they were born into a certain position, where what mattered was the effort you put into something, not how rich your parents were…so he joined PELF…"

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely" Alfred said softly, looking up at Sydney.

The boy blinked and looked at Alfred, "Yes…I suppose it does, doesn't it…at least in his case, it did…sometimes, I wish that I could have met him then…before all of this happened, before everything went to hell…"

"Hey…" Alfred put a comforting hand on the boy's back, rubbing it gently, "Look, there's nothing you can do about it now…just focus on your own life, making your own life better…making sure you don't end up like your father did…"

Sydney shook his head, "I wonder…I…I know it sounds stupid, since I know what he's doing is just _wrong_, but…I…I don't want to disappoint him…I want to change, I want to fight for the American people, but I…I'm afraid of disappointing Father…I'm afraid of letting him down..He, he's not very nice or caring…truth be told, we really don't talk a lot, and when we do, it's about business. I don't know him at _all_, but I'm afraid to let him down…funny isn't it?"

"You know…" Alfred said, thoughtfully, "I…I was once in a similar situation…many, many years ago."

"You were?" Sydney looked genuinely surprised, "Really? You had a father?"

Alfred chuckled lightly, "No…not a father. A mother, yes, but not a father…"

"So you were in a similar situation with your mother?"

A shadow of guilt flitted across Alfred's face and he quickly shook his head, "No…not my mother…it happened with someone I considered, at the time, a brother…Sydney, how much do they teach you about American history?"

Sydney frowned, "All the schools are taught a strict governmental program…History, we only learn from about a decade before the Revolution to the time after the Revolution, till now."

"Only 25 years?"

"Give or take."

Alfred shook his head, barely believing his ears, "Wow…ok. Then, I'm assuming you don't know about my…the Revolutionary War?"

"No, I told you, we learn from a little before the Revolutionary War to now."

"Which Revolutionary War?"

"What do you mean "which revolutionary war"?" Sydney looked rather confused, "There was more than one?"

"Yea. In 1776."

"Really!?"

"How do you think America was formed?"

They boy shrugged, "I honestly don't know…I always thought it was like the other countries…like, it just has always been there…"

"No…" Alfred laughed, "America is a very different nation…we were the first to undergo revolution…Many years ago, Europe, the "Old World" came to America, the "New World" on ships…One of the nations that came was England."

"You mean, like the UK England?"

Alfred nodded, "England, at that time was not "England" but "The British Empire"…there was a saying, "The Sun never sets on the British Empire"…"

"But how is that possible?"Sydney asked, now looking thoroughly confused, "I mean, even if England was a world power then, it's still just an island…the sun would still set on it…"

"At that time", Alfred explained, "England had territory all over the world. India, Asia, Africa, the Caribbean, and yes, here, in America. "

"What!?" Sydney looked thoroughly shocked now, "Where were you?"

Alfred laughed, "I was raised by a woman…my mother, Native America…I…I don't know what happened to her…" Alfred looked somewhat troubled before continuing, "Anyways, she raised me and Canada…and then the Old World came…I met England…and fell in love."

Sydney looked at Alfred, "I'm sorry, but that's got to be the corniest line ever" the boy said flatly.

Alfred smiled, "It's Hollywood. I still have it, you know…It's not quiet gone, yet."

"Hollywood?" Sydney looked even more confused, "What's that?"

The nation quickly shook his head, "Never mind. Anyways, what I'm saying is England came, and I went to go live with him…He left me alone for long periods of time, as he had to constantly go back to England to take care of business…and I grew up. I became self-dependant, my people started governing themselves, started taxing themselves."

"Your people? But were they your people or England's people?"

Alfred frowned, "They came from all over Europe…searching for new lives, for opportunities, for religious freedom, for whatever reason. They considered themselves English, for the most part, or at least under the English crown…the term "American" wasn't born until the French and Indian War…"

"What's that?"

"They call it the Seven Year's War in Europe…there were two main theatres, the European theatre and the American theatre…at the time, the European theatre was the most important theatre, but since we're talking about American history, we'll ignore that for a moment…" Alfred paused for a second, before continuing, "After some years, Arthur began asking for taxes from my people…they weren't particularly heavy taxes…the average Englishman back in England actually paid more…but my people refused. The leaders at this time used terms like "Taxation without representation" and the "Intolerable Acts" to rally the people, but really, the true reason America left the British Empire, the true reason I left Arthur was because I was ready to become a nation…I wanted to make my own decisions, my own choices…My people were ready to control themselves, and how could a nation, centered all across the Atlantic know what my people, what I wanted?"

"So…you left him?"

Alfred frowned, then nodded very slowly, "It…hurt so bad…I loved England, loved Arthur so much…I…I didn't want to hurt him, but knew if I left, it would just hurt him _so badly_…I was afraid it would destroy him…I really didn't want to…I tried to compensate, tried to side with the English for a while…but, it just didn't work…my people wanted it, I was ready for it, and well…it just…_happened_. I left Arthur, I left England…I left him on the ground as the rain and mud mixed around him…" Alfred shook his head, "Sydney, you've got to understand…you can't just…live for your father…especially if he's a fucking bastard…you have to fight for yourself, define yourself as an individual…I did…I pushed away someone who had handmade toys for me, who had sailed across the Atlantic for me…and though I wish there could have been an easier way to do it…" Alfred shook his head, "I have no regrets."

Sydney was quiet after Alfred finished talking, poking at a dying fly with a stick. "Alfred…" he said quietly after a few minutes.

"Yea?"

The boy blushed and ducked his head into his hands, letting out a muffled sound that Alfred could have sworn sounded like a "thanks".

* * *

**-3- so that's that! there were two quotes last time, and one person got them! (TantitedPerspective) congrats~**

**I'll tell you what they were in the next chapter, since i really really have to go now, and i wanted to get this up before i left...plz review!**

**and there's two kinda quote in here but they're tot obvious (one of them says "Alfred quoted) so...don't bother looking for them this time...:P**


	11. Chapter 11

**So, a bit shorter than usual, and a bit longer to get out than usual but...geh.. you can't blame me. I was totally distracted by all the USxUK love that was going on (made me soo happy. those two are totally my OTP~) and then the olympic games!**

**the olympics are...weird, to put it mildly. i mean, they were talking about the luge track at whistler...and then my physics teacher was just telling us last weekend about how he was going up to whistler...it's so strange living so close to where the olympics are happening....kinda cool tho. -3- personally, i'm looking foward to the male russian figure skating. does anyone kno if that guy is going to be competing? i hope he is...**

**ok, i'm going to shut up now. hope you enjoy! **

**Ch. 11-A Decision**

* * *

Arthur shifted again, trying to get comfortable. Following the disaster in Indiana, the group had continued its push eastward, being extremely careful to avoid main roads and large cities. While passing through some small town in Pennsylvania, they'd spotted a "WANTED" notice for Arthur.

"Mon petit Angleterre", Francis had reasoned while trying to keep an enraged Briton from strangling him, "It was bound to happen sooner or later."

Arthur rolled over, the sleeping bag providing some relief but not a lot. They were still in Pennsylvania, and had decided to stop in some of the woods to sleep. Toris had volunteered to keep watch; he would sleep during the drive down to DC. They were close, _so close_ to their destination, to Alfred... Arthur wanted to push through, to keep going, but he realized that in order to be able to rescue Alfred, they were all going to have to be in top condition.

_Something that's not helped by sleeping on the forest floor in the middle of the day_ he thought dourly as he turned over again, and finally managed to doze off into a fitful slumber.

* * *

Alfred stared at the ceiling, watching the flies buzz around. He was thinking about his latest conversation with Sydney. The boy had changed since he'd started talking to Alfred. He became more open, easier to talk to. He wasn't a stupid boy, Alfred had quickly realized. He was a fast learner, and in the past week, Alfred had been teaching him about world history, starting with the great Mesopotamian river-civilizations. (Despite his attitude, Alfred was still a nation. He was _quite_ well-informed about history, even though he usually acted like he knew nothing.) The boy had been particularly fascinated by the Golden Horde.

"_How did they conquer so much territory?" Sydney had asked, staring at the map, "They…they started with hardly anything…"_

_Alfred smiled, and nodded, "The Golden Horde, and the fall of the Kevian Rus were revolutionary moments in history." Alfred frowned, "The nations, myself and the others, as you know, are defined by our people. Our people essentially determine when we are born, and when we die. There are moments in history, moments that define the nations. The fall of the Kevian Rus was one such moment, a moment when a nation was essentially "defined" for the centuries to come."_

"_Oh really?" the boy had looked up from the map, "Which nation did it "define"?"_

_Alfred shook his head, "The Mongols were great generals, great conquerors, and great butchers. Remember, great and good are seldom the same man. A man can be great and terrible; there are many instances where this has happened. Maximilien Robespierre. Genghis Khan. Alexander the Great. None of these men are what we like to think of as "good", but great? Yes, there is no doubt they were. The Mongols were a great and bloody people. In many instances, they are praised for "uniting" Asia and spreading tolerance. They united Asia by killing anyone who defied them, and only tolerated religious freedom because they were too busy conquering to really mess with such a "trivial" topic. They raped, beat, destroyed the nation..." Alfred paused, a shadow passing over his face, "The Mongols separated him from his family, and he was so young at the time…in human years I don't think he was even a teenager. It defined him for centuries to come, defines him even now. He's never recovered from it, you know. Look at his history. From that moment on, it only spirals downward, a path of blood, misery and suffering…" Alfred trailed off, frowning thoughtfully._

"_Umm…"Sydney looked rather confused, "Who's "he"? Which nation did this define?"_

_Alfred looked back at Sydney, a dejected look settling across the nation's features, "Ivan Braginski" he responded, "Russia."_

Alfred rolled over. Why had he told Sydney that? He _never_ opened up about Ivan. The man was crazy, a forbidden topic. However, Ivan was the only nation Alfred ever had really considered an equal. They had a sick relationship, Alfred knew, but a thrilling one. The nation challenged him, forced him to remain alert at all times, twirling that blood-stained pipe and grinning that maniacal smirk…Alfred always met it with a smirk of his own, neither powers backing down, neither gaining much ground. With Ivan, Alfred felt that he could just release everything.

Alfred loved Arthur. There was no doubt in his mind about that. However, strength-wise, Arthur simply couldn't always keep up with Alfred. Alfred had to sometimes control himself around Arthur (not that he minded too much…he would do anything to see that beautiful smile or adorable blush), but around Ivan, Alfred could do whatever the fuck he wanted. There was no holding back, no love, only raw, animalistic, _barbaric_ strength. It was ugly, it was bloody, and it was just _wonderful_.

Though such a relationship might have been condemned, Alfred knew Arthur really couldn't complain. Considering he regularly had one-night flings with Francis, it would be somewhat hypocritical to do so. Such were the relationships of nations; nothing was established, really. Everyone had slept with everyone at some point, everyone held affairs while in relationships. When you live for hundreds, or thousands of years, such things suddenly seem much less important.

The door was suddenly flung open, disturbing Alfred's thoughts. He sat up, startled. Sydney came in, his face pale and stiff. The doors slammed behind him, and the boy approached Alfred. "A…Alfred" he managed to get out.

"Sydney?" Alfred asked, looking at the boy, "What's wrong?"

Sydney bit his lip, shaking his head back and forth, back and forth. He was crying, Alfred noted, little rivulets running down his face, his nose dribbling slightly. "Th…They…" he managed to gasp out before he gave into his tears, falling to the floor and shaking his head even more violently.

"Hey, c'mon," Alfred got off his bed and knelt next to Sydney where the boy sat on the floor, "C'mon, what happened? It can't be that bad…"

"It…I…I…" the boy reached forward and grasped the front of Alfred's shirt, pulling the nation down, "I'm sorry…I'm so, so, so, _sorry…_I can't _do_ anything…I…I thought that I could come into power…take control of America, and_ fix_ what my Fa…Father did…" he hiccupped loudly and gave into a fresh wave of tears.

"Sydney, what happened?" suddenly fear gripped his stomach, "Oh, god, please don't tell me they managed to capture Arthur and the others…"

Sydney shook his head, biting his lower lip. Relief flooded Alfred, but Sydney still sobbed, "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry…" he chanted, clutching tighter onto Alfred's shirt, "Goddamnit…I…I…"

"Sydney, calm down, tell me what happened."

The boy looked up at him, "You…they…"

"Yes? What about me and them?"

"They…They…

"What?"

"THEY'RE PLANNING ON EXECUTING YOU!"

The words fell from Sydney's mouth, a shriek, and for a second, Alfred wasn't quite sure if he had heard correctly, "Wait…" the nation said slowly, staring at the boy sobbing on the floor in front of him, "Did…did you say they were planning on…_executing_ me?"

Sydney looked up at Alfred, his blue eyes swimming in tears. Slowly, never taking his gaze from the nation's face, they boy nodded. Alfred blinked then chuckled weakly, "Well this is somewhat unexpected. Why the sudden decision?"

Sydney shook his head, "F…Father knows it's over…he…he know it's only a matter of time…before he's overthrown. The…the demonstration with the Star Spangled Banner...F…FIA's growing strength…and the other nations trying to rescue you…Father thinks that…if…if he kills you…he'll kill the…the old America…and have a chance of staying in…power…" the boy looked back down, dropping his grip on Alfred's shirt. "I…I…can't _do_ anything…he won't listen to me, won't even _talk_ to me…He scheduled it already. A hanging. In two days at noon."

Alfred said nothing, his brain still trying to process the information. His _own government_ was planning on killing him. Was it even possible to kill nations? He vaguely remembered Francis saying something about nations dying once, but he hadn't really been paying attention…What was it? The Nations represented the people, that much Alfred knew. So, the only way for a nation to die, to _truly_ die, would be if the people no longer identified with the nation…The American people still referred to themselves as "Americans" but did they associate with the nation, with him anymore? Alfred frowned. He was taking Sydney's news rather calmly, though he didn't know why. Perhaps, as a nation, death just seemed like such a _foreign_ concept.

"A…Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"D…Did you hear me?"

"Yea…yea, I did."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

Sydney looked shocked, "Aren't you worried!?"

Alfred frowned, "I suppose I am. Maybe I'm in shock? For some reason, I don't feel too worked up about it."

"You're going to _die_. Wait…You're a nation!" as if just realizing it, Sydney's face lit up, "You can't die then! You're a nation, right?"

"Yes…" Alfred nodded slowly, "But I can still die, remember the conversation we had about the "defining moments" in history?"

"Yes, what about it?"

"In those "defining" moments, one of two things happen to the nations. We either change with the moment, or we die and someone else takes our place. I…I think that this "second revolution" is one of those moments. It's definitely caused enough of an upset."

"So then you can die?"

"I…I think so."

"No" Sydney's hysteria seemed to be returning, "No. no! You…you can't! You have to save your people; you have to fight for them, goddamnit! Don't just sit there! Help me! Think of a way to get you out!"

"This place is too well-guarded."

"SO YOU'RE JUST GOING TO SIT THERE?! WHAT ABOUT YOUR PEOPLE!? THEY _NEED _YOU!"

"I'm not worried about my people."

"Wh…what?" Sydney looked at Alfred, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes bulging, "Don't you _care_?"

Alfred smiled, "I care. Of course I care. I love my people beyond belief, but am I worried for them? No. They're American. They are patriots, and as I love them, I know they love me. Each man must for himself alone decide what is right and what is wrong, which course is patriotic and which isn't. You cannot shirk this and be a man. The American people will decide what is right, what is wrong, and what they are willing to fight for, to die for. The American people are idealists, dreamers. They are my children, and I love each and every one of them."

You know what's so wonderful about being an American? Anyone can do it. It doesn't matter who you are, or what you believe in. It doesn't matter your age, your class, your race. Anyone can be an American. It's a beautiful thing, really. And when you have that kind of diversity, when the people from all over the world come together under one title, anything is possible." By now Alfred was standing, his face flushed in happiness as he talked, "Don't you see, Sydney? I'm not worried about my people. They can look after themselves. The American people will not stand for such a government. Your Father can kill as many people as he wants. He can fill the streets with the blood of the patriots, but the American spirit will never be vanquished."

"Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. For Americans the greatest treasure is liberty, is freedom. For this, for these rights, they will fight, they will die, and goddamnit, my help or not, by that bastard's will or not, they _will_ triumph!"

Sydney was staring at Alfred. The boy opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, "I…I still don't understand why you aren't at least _scared_" he finally managed to croak out before turning from the room and leaving.

* * *

They were forced to enter DC on foot, ditching the car in some outlying woods and proceeding to the last FIA stronghold on foot. It was an average house in the suburbs surrounding DC, and while soldiers still patrolled the area, the group had been lucky and reached the household with no incident.

"Glad you could make it." A man had come and greeted them once Julie had explained who they were. "You can stay here for as long as you want. Plan your attack on the White House carefully though. We can provide you with ammo and firearms, but there's only so far a good gun can take you against a horde of musclemen."

"Don't worry" Arthur reassured him, "We're going to get scans of the White House. Mei?"

"Yes darling?" a voice responded in his ear, a high falsetto.

"Gilbert" Arthur growled, "Connect me up with Mei."

"You know Artie I just realized something"

"That's wonderful, I don't care. Now connect me!"

"And that is that you have not been hosting very many drinking parties lately."

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" Arthur screamed besides himself with rage, "I'M TRYING TO STOP THE WORLD FROM BEING BLOWN TO DAVY JONE'S LOCKER AND ALL YOU CAN THINK OF IS _DRINKING_!?!? FOR THE LOVE OF GORDON BENNET, CONNECT ME WITH MEI NOW YOU DAFT MORON!"

"Oww…geez Artie. Yelling doesn't get anyone anywhere you know. I'm the one with the connection you need. So, in order to get it, I'm going to need some compensation."

"You…sodding…little…wanker…"

"So then you're game?"

"Arthur" Matthew, who had heard the entire conversation on his own earpiece, came over to Arthur, "Just…say yes, we don't have a choice, you know."

Arthur closed his eyes, "Fine. Yes. Yea. Whatever. When we get back, we'll do something. Ok. NOW CONNECT ME."

"See what a wonderful thing cooperation can be?" Gilbert cackled, switching over the connection to the technology team.

"Hello?"

"Hey Mei" Arthur responded, getting his temper back under control, "Could we get scans of the white house?"

"Scans of the White House….scans of the White House…Yea, we can do that." Mei stared intently at the screen before her, scrolling downward as she looked through the numerous files they had succeeded in hacking, "Ah!" she said, grinning, "Here it is! Just give me a second, I'll…wait…what the!?"

Arthur frowned as Mei's voice suddenly changed from one of confidence to one of panic. "Mei!?" he cried out, "Oi! Mei! What's going on!?"

"Shit…they…" her voice was breaking up now, and Arthur had to strain to hear her, "Slipped…virus…system-"

Her voice was suddenly completely cut off, "Mei?! MEI!?"

"What happened?" Jack had hurried over now, looking concerned, "We've lost all connection!"

"Yea. I know." Arthur responded, fiddling with his mike, "Fuck, I think a virus managed to slip into their system or something…"

"And they crashed?"

"Looks like it."

"So we're cut off from the others?"

"I think so…can you get a hold of the idiots?" Arthur asked.

"Lemme try" Jack responded, "Gilbert? Feliciano? Mathais?"

Silence.

"Nope." Jack shook his head, "Look like we're on our own…no scans of the white house, no anything."

Arthur nodded grimly, "I've been in the White House numerous times. We'll just have to go off of that."

* * *

Mei glared at the now-blank screen, "Great. Perfect timing." She muttered to herself as she began to fiddle with the keyboard.

"Mei?" a voice addressed her and she looked up. "Kiku" she responded, nodding curtly.

"What happened?" Kiku asked, his face the usual blank mask.

She shook her head, "They got us. Damnit." She shook her head, "We'll be able to get this system up and running soon…but I don't know if we'll be on time. They need the scans soon."

"They've shut down the entire system. My computers are down too."

"Fuck." Mei cursed, biting her lower lip, "We'll never get the system up and running in time."

"No, we can." Kiku shook his head, "But it'll be difficult. We need extra power though. If we can get it, we should be able to shove through the system. Of course, that would notify the Americans to our presence, but at this point, I think it's safe to say it does not really matter."

"We need more power, huh?" Mei frowned, "But where are we going to get that? I hate to say it, but the most efficient source of energy is still petroleum. We've only switched over to renewable energy lately because of the desire to be more environmentally friendly, but I think that we'd all agree that a bit of pollution is better than an all-out nuclear war. Our problem is that…well, we don't have enough fuel, and the nations with fuel have all abandoned this mission."

"So we're screwed." Kiku said, sighing

"Unless you know a nation that's willing to supply us with the oil you mentioned, then yea."

"And therein lies the problem. All nations with lots of oil hate Alfred, are unstable-"

"-and have no desire to help the selfish brat, da?"

"Exactly." Kiku nodded, then paused. His face remained rather emotionless, but if the way he was clenching his fists any indication, he was clearly in shock.

"I…Ivan?" Mei's face had paled considerably as she stared up at the nation that had suddenly appeared out of seemingly nowhere, "Ho…how did you get in here!?"

"What do you mean?" Ivan smiled politely, shrugging. "I came in the front door."

"This is a highly-secured location!" Mei replied shrilly, waving her hands about, "You can't just "come in the front door!"

"But I did."

"You…the…how…" the Asian nation managed to stutter out as she pointed at the giant.

"If that's the only concern you have, then I believe we can get to business now?" Ivan smiled, "I happened to overhear you complaining about a lack of fuel?"

"Yes" Kiku said, his eyes flashing dangerously, "But we will not take any from any source that would potentially use it as leverage in the future."

"How about a nation that would provide it at no cost, with no strings attached?" Ivan was leaning over now, so that he was eye-level with Kiku. The tension between the two was obvious, and Kiku bristled, his face still lacking emotion but his eyes flashing dangerously.

"If this nation was willing to put it in writing, we might have something" the smaller nation responded, his voice taking on a dangerous and guarded edge.

Ivan pulled back, a large grin gracing his feature, "Then it seems like we have come to an agreement, da?"

Kiku hesitated, before nodding, "Hai."

* * *

**Ok, so in my head cannon, none of the nations are really in an est. relationship...i mean, USxUK is my OTP, but i'm sorry, FrUK is just cannon. and RussiaXAmerica is too....i don't mean to offend anyone who's british by saying england can't keep up with america strngth-wise, it's just kinda..true. i mean, england's more focused on other things while america's like "military! fuck yea!" you kno? guuh.....so hard to explain....**

**anywho! there's quiet a few quotes in here...imma gonna go with three..i'm not entirely sure actually....**

**and finally! who noticed the lack of grammatical errors? :D ehehe~one of my awesome friends, brittany (princesscharming101 on ) agreed to beta my fics...after she read them and noticed the gross grammatical errors...she's awesome and i love her~(even though she needs to just admit that megan will ALWAYS win..and she will always lose...fufufufu~) here's her page if anyone wants to check out her fics! (and bug her about that code geass one.....)**

**.net/u/1621421/princesscharming101**


	12. Chapter 12

**I saw a news article that made me laugh. The Korean speed skating coach apparently chucked some water bottles at some chinese guy b/c the chinese guy was filming them practicing. intense, no? :D**

**Just something to cheer you up. There's character death in here...-3- And btw, bob's not important. that's why his name is bob. **

**Ch. 12: Execution**

* * *

Arthur stared at the rough diagram before him. "We have plenty of ammo, but don't know exactly where Alfred is." He said to the other nations that surrounded him. "We need to just go in there, get Alfred out, and clear out. Minimal fighting and minimal casualties. Got it?"

The nations had spent the last day at the house in DC, planning their attack, choosing weapons, and trying to adjust to the lack of constant chatter in their ears. It was a fairly straightforward plan; each nation could take on quite a few men, and if the DC guards weren't expecting them, the nations should be able to momentarily overpower them. In those moments that the nations had the upper hand, they would grab Alfred and get out of there before reinforcements could be called. It was risky; all based on the concentration and power of the White House guards. Nonetheless… Arthur shook his head; they had no other option at this point.

"We begin tomorrow morning at 11." He said, rolling up the map, "They have tours of the White House grounds, and you guys get in one of those tours to get into the White House itself. Since I'm currently wanted, I'll sneak in another way. Sound good?"

The nations said nothing, nodding in response. "Ok." Arthur said, standing, "Let's get to bed now. We've spent the whole day preparing, and we're going to need to be rested for this."

* * *

"Look Sydney, don't worry about it."

The boy shook his head, "I can't. I can't not worry about it. Don't you see? Your people need you…I need you. You…you've helped me so much, and only in a few weeks! How am I supposed to keep on going when you're gone?"

The two were in Alfred's room, talking, as usual. Sydney had come in, pale and distraught, still panicking over the execution that was to occur in less than 17 hours. He had lost a lot of weight, Alfred noted, and the bags under his eyes seemed more prominent.

Alfred sighed, "Sydney. Just do what you think is right. I've taught you some things, and you've read a lot, right?" the nation smiled, "You'll be fine. C'mon, tell me. What book are you reading now?"

Sydney sniffled, "_A Tale of Two Cities_" he responded.

"Dickens?" Alfred laughed, "Can't say I like him very much. Iggy was always like "Oh, he's such an amazing author, blah, blah, blah" but I don't know. He had amazing ideas…and such intricate plots, but was rather long-winded…Oh, and as far as Iggy knows, I haven't read anything by the man. How far are you?"

"I'm basically done. I just have to read the conclusion" Sydney muttered, shrugging. The boy stood up, and made his way over to the door.

"Alfred" Sydney spoke up one last time.

"Yea?"

The boy paused, then turned, his face resolved, his eyes hard, "I'll get you out. Just you wait, I'll think of something." With that, he wrenched the door open and ran out, allowing it to slam shut behind him.

"You'll think of something, huh?" Alfred smiled sadly and leaned back on his bed, watching the flies buzz around once more. He shook his head, relaxing as he allowed himself to slip into what was most likely the last slumber he would ever wake from.

* * *

Bob had been working for the PELF for many years. He had been one of the original founders, had been involved long before that bastard that now held the title of "President" had been. So how had he ended up where he was now? A guard for one of the prisoners of the former government. Some kid named "Jones" or something like that. Bob scowled as he played with the gun in his holster. He honestly didn't understand why the higher-ups had chosen to keep this Jones kid alive for so long. They had executed everyone else from the other government…

Ah well, he shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. No matter. The Jones kid would be dead in…he checked his watch. 8:38 AM. Approximately three hours.

A voice, arrogant and commanding suddenly spoke up, startling the guard, "Unlock the doors." Bob looked up, not too surprised to see the President's son, Sydney, standing before him, a rather large briefcase in hand. The boy seemed to enjoy coming down and tormenting the Jones boy for hours on end. In the past week, Sydney had spent at least five or so hours each day in Jones's room.

"Master Sydney" Bob replied, bowing low, "Leave the Jones boy alone. He dies in three hours; the least you could do is allow a condemned man some peace…"

"Are you questioning me?" Sydney asked, his expression haughty, his tone cold, "I wasn't aware that you were in such a position to do so."

"No, sir!" the guard simpered, "No, not at all! If it is your wish to see the prisoner than you shall…"

Sydney smirked as Bob fiddled with the keys on his waist, finding the correct key and unlocking the door. The guard pulled the door open, and Sydney entered the room. The door slammed shut behind the boy, locking automatically.

Bob straightened and scowled at the door. That brat. Just because he was the President's son, he had such a condescending air about him…Muttering darkly to himself, Bob resumed his position by the door.

It was almost two and a half hours later, at around 11:15 when something changed. There were voices coming from the room, raised and angry. _Seems like they're arguing again_ Bob thought to himself, rolling his eyes.

However, the argument seems to grow more heated, and soon, Bob could hear strange noises, as if something was struggling. The guard by now had his ear pressed to the door, wondering if Sydney and the Jones kid had actually gotten into a physical fight…

"Security! SECURITY!" Sydney's arrogant voice, high-pitched with fear suddenly rang out, and Bob jumped back, startled.

"SECURITY! SECU-" the cries were suddenly cut off with a loud thud, which was promptly followed by another, louder thud. Wasting no more time, Bob fumbled with his keys for a few seconds before he managed to get the right key, jammed it into the lock, and flung the door open.

The Jones kid was standing by the bed, panting softly and red-faced. His right arm was slightly raised and he clutched a lamp in his right hand. In front of him, face-down on the floor was Sydney, unconscious. Blood dripped off the base of the lamp the Jones kid held, matching the blood that trickled down Sydney's hair. Bob paused for a second, taking in the scene before him before he lunged at the Jones kid, knocking the lamp out of his hand and sending him sprawling to the floor.

"You bastard!" Bob yelled, pulling a fist back to punch the Jones kid.

"Stop it."

A voice commanded from the doorway and Bob looked up, surprised. Ana, the President's young daughter stood in the entrance of the room. Her nanny, a large woman of East German descent loomed behind her.

Ana honestly creeped Bob out. The girl was not like most other children her age. She was cold, emotionless. Her face always retained the same expression, her voice remained a constant monotone. "Mi…missus Ana" Bob stuttered, "He attacked your brother…"

Ana said nothing, her eyes flashing and connecting with Jones's own. Something seemed to pass between the two, and for a second, Bob could have sworn a look of hurt, pain, and understanding filled the young girl's eyes. However, he was positive he must have been mistaken, for it was gone the next second. When Ana spoke, her voice was the same monotone, "Let him be" she commanded.

"But…missus…"

"Let him be."

"Very well" Bob stood, "What about your brother?"

Again the strange look flashed through Ana's eyes. The girl paused a second, before turning. "Nanny, take care of…brother." She said, her voice slightly muffled.

The nanny lumbered forward, and scooped up the unconscious figure from the floor. She then straightened, and without making eye contact with anyone, lumbered after her young mistress.

Bob had not moved, and once Ana and her nanny had left, he turned his attention to the Jones kid, who had yet to stand up, "Be thankful for her, kid." He snarled, "Remember. You've got less than an hour to live." With that, he also left the room.

* * *

The White House stood before them, "You got the plan memorized?" Ludwig muttered to Matthew, who stood next to him.

The Canadian swallowed, then nodded, "Piece of cake" he muttered.

The five nations approached the front gate, where a group of people stood. "That's the tour group we're joining." Arthur explained. A woman stood before the group, her fake smile seemingly consuming half her face, and her clean, pressed uniform accenting her in all the wrong places.

"Are you guys ready for the tour?" she asked as the nations approached. They nodded. "Ok everyone!" the woman called out, "Let's start our tour of the home of our wonderful leader! Isn't it so kind that he lets us visit his house?"

The group chorused, "Yes, it's wonderful." And Matthew cast one nervous glance behind him as he disappeared into the mansion.

* * *

Arthur stood by the White House, amidst the usual crowd that had gathered there. He checked his wristwatch, _11:50_. He sighed. The earliest tour they had been able to book had begun at 11:45…Oh well. Something was better than nothing, right?

His emerald eyes flickered over the White House, trying to remember where would be best to sneak in. "Artie?" Arthur jumped, startled by the sudden voice in his ear.

"Gilbert!?" he hissed, "How did you get the connection back?! I thought the virus…"

"No time for that" Gilbert's voice cut him off, terse and worried. Arthur frowned. Since when had _Gilbert_ become serious? "The technology team, they'll explain everything to you."

"Wait, Gilbert! What's going o-"

"Arthur?"

The Englishman flushed, "Yes, Mei? It's wonderful that we've got the connection, but-"

Again he was interrupted by Mei, "Never mind. What time is it there?"

Arthur frowned, looking down at his watch, "11:51. Why?"

Mei cursed, "Fuck, Arthur! We don't have any time!"

"What? We're at the White House now…"

"No!" Mei's voice had become frantic, panicked, "We managed to hack into the White House records…"

"Wow. That's an accomplishment."

"…and got a hold of their execution schedule…"

"Since when did they get one of those?"

"And there's an execution today at noon!"

"So?" Arthur was more confused than ever, "Why should I care? We're here for Al-"

"ALFRED'S THE ONE GETTING EXECUTED!"

Arthur felt his stomach drop, "W…What!?" he croaked, not believing what he had just heard.

"Yes!" Mei was all but screaming, "Today, at noon, Alfred F. Jones, on the former sight of the capitol! Goddamnit Arthur! He's not in the White House, they're about to kill him!"

Arthur was already reacting, his mind numb from shock, but his body moving on its own. A motorbike was chained to a nearby lamppost, and its owner stood by it, fiddling with the keys.

"Sorry, but I need this bike. Now." The motorcyclist looked up, only to find himself face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. "He…hey" the man said, paling considerably, "O…Ok! Here!" he handed the keys over to Arthur, who promptly ripped the chains binding the bike to the pole off, and jammed the keys into the ignition. With a nod at the owner, Arthur sped down the street, the sounds of police sirens and the cries of "Thief! Thief!" resounding in his ears.

A considerable crowd had gathered around the gallows, some whispering nervously to each other, but overall a serious and demeaning air hanging over the crowd. The "President" and a few of his advisors sat on a raised platform, right next to the gallows, making it rather easy to step from the "President's" chair to the hangman's noose.

The gallows had been constructed on the remains of the Capitol. The area had gone untouched for the last 15 years, as every construction attempt that had been made in the area resulted in failure. They were old-fashioned gallows, constructed of wood with a single noose hanging from the top of a wooden upside-down L. A hangman, old and worn, stood by the lever, his face tired, his eyes blank.

The car was drawn up, and the crowd seemed to surge forward as the condemned man stepped out. His eyes were clear, a beautiful shade of blue and seemed to shine, even behind the glasses he wore. His hair was a soft golden-brown, and his face was calm, relaxed almost. His hands were bound together with coarse rope, and he wore old, dirty clothes. As he was led through the crowd and up to the noose, a strange sense of foreboding fell on the crowd. Public executions had not been held in America for centuries. To suddenly decide to stage one, and with this man…the crowd fell into uneasy whisperings.

The charges against the man were read out, "treason against the United States of America" seemed to amuse him in particular, for he smirked when it was called out. Finally, the hangman finished his speech, and turned to the "President" who sat upon his chair, disgusting and piggish as usual for permission to continue.

The pig grinned, a twisted and revolting expression, "I wonder" he asked aloud, effectively silencing the crowd that stood before him, "If this _traitor_ has anything to say, any last words? If so, I think we'd like to hear them…"

The condemned man looked up at him, his chin held aloft, his eyes flashing defiantly. "I only have one thing to say" he responded, "And it is this", he paused, looking out at the crowd before continuing, "I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss", his voice was clear, unwavering, "and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out…" he paused again, his stance never changing, his voice never faltering, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go than I have ever known."

The "President" flushed, his lips curling up into a sneer, "The fear's finally gotten to your brain, huh? Made you insane? That made little sense, you poor bastard. Oh well. Say all you want, but you know it's over now." He held up his hand, and one of the guards came over, slipping a black hood over the man's head. He stiffened as the rope was wrapped around his neck, but made no noise, made no effort to escape. The rope was tightened, and the hangman stepped back, a hand on the lever.

"Do it" the "President" was wheezing now, leaning forward and gripping the edge of his chair in excitement, "End the bastard's life!"

"ALFRED!"

The "President" looked up. A motorbike had come flying up the street, scattering people as it sped towards the gallows. The person on the motorbike reached the gallows, jumped off the bike while it was still running, and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. His face set in an expression of absolute determination, the man ran up to the hangman, grabbing him and throwing him off the lever. As he did, his eyes met the "President's" a fiery green scorching into a watery blue.

"YO….YOU….KIRKLAND!!!! STOP HIM!" the "President" was standing, pointing at Arthur, "GODDAMNIT STOP HIM!"

Several guards instantly descended on the Arthur. The nation dodged a blow from his left and struck back, feeling instant gratification as the knife he held sunk into the man's stomach. There were about ten large men, forming a semi-circle around Arthur and glaring down at the much smaller figure. Arthur smirked at them, confidence and arrogance shining in his green eyes. He had been in tighter situations before.

They attacked him at once, and his body responded, naturally falling into the flow of battle. He dodged their attacks effortlessly, a stray bullet only grazing him once or twice. "Sorry lads, a couple thousand years too late to beat me…" he muttered as the last guard fell, leaving Arthur atop a pile of dead, injured, or unconscious men.

"It's a pity isn't it?"

Arthur's heart froze and he looked up. There, only a few feet in front of him, was the "President", his hand on the lever, a smirk on his bloated face.

"I win."

"ALFRED!!!" even as the cry ripped itself from his throat, even as he ran forward, even as he shoved the fat pig off the lever…he knew it was too late. The "President" had already pulled it. There was a click as the trap door opened, the sound of sliding rope…and a sickening _*SNAP*!_

Arthur was on the floor, having thrown his whole body in his effort to stop the "President", but instantly scrambled up, "Oh god…oh fucking hell…please, no, no, no, nonono…NO!! GODDAMNIT!! ALFRED! ALFRED!!!"

The body in front of him made no response, but dangled in the wind, the limp feet hanging about five feet off the ground.

"No…no…Al…fred…" Arthur staggered forward, unable to believe what he was seeing. There had to be some kind of mistake. Alfred wouldn't…Alfred _couldn't_…It just wasn't possible…Alfred was strong. Alfred was invincible. Alfred was alive, damnit, it just couldn't be possible…he wouldn't accept it…

He reached the body, and with shaking hands, grabbed hold of it with one arm and cut the rope suspending the body with his throwing knife. The body fell to the ground and Arthur caught it, dragging it onto the platform and ripping the black hood off.

"Alfred…Alfred…" he muttered, his entire frame shaking as his hands grabbed the other's wrist. There was no pulse. "Oh god…oh god…" he leaned over, pressing his head to the chest…There was no heartbeat. "Alfred…this isn't funny. I know you're faking, come on, wake up!" he held a shaking hand to the body's mouth, waited, _waited_. No breath came out. "ALFRED!!! GODDAMNIT!! STOP IT!!!" Arthur was crying freely now, his shaking fists pounding uselessly against the corpse before him. "YOU WIN! OK! NOW STOP IT!!! YOU'RE NOT DEAD, I KNOW YOU'RE NOT DEAD!!!! STOP IT!! PLEASE!!! …please, please….oh god…please, open your eyes, goddamnit, please, please..please…"

The corpse remained limp, the eyes dimmed and dead, and the smile, that smile that Arthur had known so well for so long, finally extinguished.

* * *

**....yea. anywho. almost done! :D me thinks there's going to be two more character deaths in here..**

**_IMPORTANT NOTE: FOR THOSE OF YOU THAT GOT THE QUOTE AND FOR THOSE OF YOU THAT HAVE READ THE BOOK THAT THIS PLOT IS STOLEN FROM, PLZ REFRAIN FROM TELLING THE ENDING. YOU CAN COMMENT ON THE BOOK, YOU CAN GIVE THE TITLE, YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT JUST PLZ DON'T SAY THE ENDING FOR THOSE WHO HAVE YET TO READ IT. thanks. _**

**AGAIN! THANKS TO PRINCESSCHARMING101 FOR EDITING!!3 3**

**There were three quotes last time...again~TaintedPerspective got them! **

**"Each man must for himself alone decide what is right and what is wrong, which course is patriotic and which isn't. You cannot shirk this and be a man." -Mark Twain...i think. i'm actually not 100% sure, and i'm too lazy to look it up. **

**"Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph." -Thomas Paine. Of course America would quote him. **

**"great and good are seldom the same man." -Churchill...yea. love that man. **

**one. in here. see important note above. again, thanks so much for your kind words, and plz reviews for teh motivation! **


	13. Chapter 13

**So, this chapter's kinda long b/c i didn't want to make it a cliffhanger....-3- and yea...**

**I've suddenly been listening to les mis nonstop lately...it's strange. while i was writing this fic, i swear i listened to "one day more" at least 50 times...i never get tired of that musical, idk why. it's prob. my fav actually...(you totally didn't need to kno that but whatever)**

**and those who got it...yeap. sydney carton from a tale of two cities. honestly can't say that's my fav. book but i really enjoy the basic storyplot as well as many of the themes it promoted. kinda liek moby dick. i hated it, but appreciated it at the same time...does that make sense?**

**anyways, so i open up my mail account, and there's liek a billion notifications for review alerts...guuuh....you guys made me so happy! i'm sorry if i wan't able to respond to your review, but i read all of them, and they all really motivated me to screw the john steinbeck themes essay for AP lit. i have due in less than two hours and finish this! :D thank you all so much! **

**There's a lot of jumping around POV in this chapter...sorry if that bugs anyone...**

**Ch. 13: The Truth**

* * *

Matthew frowned as he led the group through the halls of the White House. Something was clearly off. The security was unusually lax; the group of five nations had only encountered one guard in the five minutes they had snuck away from the tour group.

"Hey! Matthew? Gilbert here." The Canadian jerked upward in surprise, startled by the sudden voice in his ear.

"Gilbert?" he asked, "You got the connection!"

"Yea. Great. Now listen." The former nation's voice was low and urgent, "Go back to the house, get the car, and drive to where Alfred's Capitol once stood."

"But what about Alfred?"

"Alfred's not in the White House" Gilbert responded, "I don't have time to explain. Just get out of there and do it. What time is it?"

"Ummm…" Matthew checked his watch, "11:55."

"Fuck. How long will it take for you to get back to the house?"

"Not long. By cab 10 or 15 minutes-"

"That's too long" Gilbert harshly interrupted, "Is there a faster way?"

"Not unless we somehow got our own car and speed."

"Do it. Steal a car and do it. Actually, fuck going back to the house. Just steal a car and go to where I told you. Get a big car, like a SUV or a van preferably."

"But then they'll know we're here!"

"IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER!!!" Gilbert yelled, "THEY ALREADY DO! NOW DO IT! ARTHUR'S AND ALFRED'S LIVES DEPEND ON IT!!!!"

Frowning, Matthew turned to the other nations, who had overheard the conversation on their own earpieces. They nodded at Matthew, and the group rushed out of the White House.

The SUV wasn't too hard to locate. The American Secret Service hadn't changed from its black, bullet-proof model in nearly fifty years, so it was really just a matter of finding a Secret Service Agent, knocking him out, and making off with his keys. They piled into the stolen vehicle, with Ludwig in the driver's seat, and sped off to where America's Capitol had once stood.

* * *

"Fuck. No…fuckfuckfuckfuck…"Gilbert stared at the computer screen for a few seconds before standing up, crossing over to the other side of the room, and punching a hole in the wall, "fuckfuckfuckfuck…" the mantra poured from his mouth as he continued punching, the number of holes increasing, and the bruises on his fist growing darker and darker.

Mathais had reacted in a similar fashion, grabbing his axe, running outside, and screaming in rage as he hacked anything and everything in sight. Only Feliciano sat before the screen, his hazel eyes wide and overflowing with tears as he watched Arthur desperately punching at Alfred's corpse.

"How…" he couldn't understand it. He had never been particularly close to Alfred, but he could never forget just how _frightening_ the nation could become in those rare instances that he became serious. The cold, confident arrogance, the determination, the overwhelming _power_ that had shone in those eyes… "Lead me, follow me, or get out of my way" indeed. Feliciano choked back another sob.

"Hello? Hello?" Feliciano jumped as Ludwig's voice suddenly sounded over the speakers.

"Lu…Ludwig…" the Italian gasped, forcing another wave of tears down. Though he couldn't see him, Feliciano could imagine the slight frown on Ludwig's face as the blonde nation responded, "Feliciano? Are you alright? What happened?"

So they didn't know yet. Feliciano glanced at the screen again. It appeared that some guards had managed to grab Arthur, who, in his shock was unable to fight back. The copper-haired nation shook his head. They had already lost Alfred. There was no way they could lose Arthur. "Ludwig" Feliciano finally said, fighting to keep his voice calm, "Where are you?"

"We're almost at the capitol…I can see a…wait. That…that looks like…"

"Ludwig, it's already too late for Alfred. The only thing you can do now is save Arthur."

"What do you mean it's already too late for Al?!" Matthew's voice, uncharacteristically high-pitched, suddenly interrupted the conversation, "What do you…wait. Are…are those gallows? Oh my god…you…you can't be serious…no…NO! NO! IT'S NOT POSSIBLE!! AL! AL!!"

"Matthew!" Jack yelled, "MATTHEW!! CALM DOWN!"

"AL!!! NONONONONONO!! FUCKING HELL!!! THIS! THIS-AL!"

There was a slight thud as Matthew's frantic screams were suddenly cut off. Feliciano glanced up at Matthew's screen. It had gone black, indicating that the nation had lapsed into unconsciousness. "What happened?" he asked.

"I had to knock him out" Jack responded, his voice worn and tired, "He was trying to jump out of the car."

* * *

Ludwig gritted his teeth as he sped up, nearing the gallows and sending people flying out of the way. He flew right up to the gallows, slamming on the brakes at the last minute. "Get Arthur" he commanded, "And if possible, try to grab Alfred's…corpse."

The three nations in the back made no verbal response, but nodded and jumped out of the car.

While Toris and Francis grabbed Alfred's limp body, Jack attacked the guards holding Arthur. The nation took them both down, rather easily, and, ignoring the furious screams of the Pig, seized the unresponsive Englishman by the waist, threw him over his shoulder, and jumped back into the car. Toris and Francis had already loaded Alfred's body in the second row of seats and clambered in ahead of Jack. The entire operation took less than a minute, and as soon as everyone had scrambled back into the SUV, Ludwig slammed on the accelerator, speeding out of the vicinity as the "President's" screeching faded into the background.

* * *

The chauffeur bowed low, opening the door for the young girl. Nodding her head slightly at him, Ana slid into the car, watching as her Nanny slid the unconscious figure in her arms into the seat next to the girl.

"Missus Ana" the chauffeur said, frowning slightly, "Don't you think it would be better to get Master Sydney to a hospital? It seems like that rouge gave the poor Master a rather bad bump…"

The girl regarded the unconscious man next to her. Shaking her head lightly, she responded, "He'll be…fine. He wanted to go for a drive today, and so he shall."

Sighing, the chauffeur closed the door, and was about to climb into the front seat when the Nanny suddenly grabbed his arm. "I'll be driving these two today." She said, holding out her large hand for the keys.

The chauffeur spluttered, "As if!" he huffed indignantly, "I'm the family chauffeur. I'll be driving. Now get into the car!"

The Nanny said nothing, but stepped back. Glaring at her, the chauffeur drew the keys from his pocket, "Honestly" he muttered to himself, as he turned away from her, "You know that I'm the-"

The man never finished his sentence, for the Nanny had struck him in the back of his head, knocking him out instantly. He let out a soft "oof" as he fell to the floor. The large woman produced a length of rope from under the apron she wore, and proceeded to tie the man up with it. She then picked him up, and carried him over to a large garden shed where she left him. If he were lucky, someone would be along in a few days to untie him…

The Nanny returned to the car and picked up the keys where the chauffeur had dropped them. She clambered into the driver's seat and jammed the keys into the ignition, starting up the car.

"Are you sure about this?" the woman asked Ana, looking at the girl who had been sitting in the back seat the entire time.

Ana smiled sadly, allowing the Nanny a rare glimpse of emotion, "Of course I don't want to do it." She said, "But Brother asked me to help him…and he said that now, while they're busy with…with…the…well, you know. Anyways, Brother said now was the best time to escape. He asked me, he asked me so, no. I don't want to. But I will."

She glanced at the unconscious blonde seated next to her, tears welling up in her eyes, "Brother…"she whispered, raising her hand and touching his face, but only for a fleeting second. She instantly snapped her hand back, clutching it to her chest as if she had been burned, "Why…?" tears started falling freely now, and for the first time in her young life, Ana just sat there and cried.

"G..Go…" Ana addressed her Nanny, stuttering through her tears. The woman frowned slightly before nodding, starting up the engine and pulling out onto the road.

* * *

"Are they alright?" the woman looked at Jack, concern obvious in her dark eyes.

"I…no." Jack shook his head, looking over to where Arthur and Matthew sat, besides the makeshift coffin they had placed Alfred in. The group had driven out of DC, not stopping until they had reached a FIA stronghold in Pennsylvania. Julie had stayed in DC, but through the mikes and earpieces, had managed to guide the group to the location of the base.

Once they had reached their location, the nations had built a coffin for Alfred. The placed the coffin in the middle of the main hall, and lined it with roses, America's national flower. Arthur and Matthew had sat in front of Alfred's coffin, both nations seemingly lost in a daze. Neither ate, neither talked. They would cry some, then lapse into long hours of silence.

"Was he a friend?" the woman asked, nodding over to where Arthur and Matthew sat.

Francis sighed, "In…a matter of speaking…" he knew that it would be impossible to explain the magnitude of the loss to a human. Nations formed few bonds, but when they did, they were painfully deep. To lose someone you had loved, someone who had been there for not decades, but centuries…it hurt. Francis smiled bitterly. Hurt was an understatement. Words really couldn't describe the gut-wrenching anguish Arthur and Matthew must be undergoing now…

The woman frowned slightly and nodded, "I'm sorry…" she said, shaking her head lightly, "If there's anything I can do, let me know."

Francis smiled and nodded, opening his mouth to respond. However, before he could actually say anything, the door to the hall flung open and a man came rushing in.

"Hey! Hey!" the man yelled, his excited face destroying the gloomy atmosphere that had settled over the hall, "We got somethin'! It's big! There bringin' 'em in now!"

A few seconds later, a procession soon entered the hall that the nations had been gathered in, dragging behind it an old cart. Two people, a young girl and a larger, rather intimidating woman, stood in the cart, and a third figure lay slumped on the edge of the cart, unconscious. Francis frowned. They unconscious figure looked exactly like Alfred…he recalled the video they had seen, the demonstration with the Star-Spangled Banner, and the Alfred look-alike in the video…the Pig's son, wasn't it? Then who were the other two?

The young girl's hands were bound, and a piece of cloth was tied around her mouth, serving as a gag. The larger woman was in a similar predicament. Only the unconscious boy was unfettered. "It's the Bastard's daughter and son!" a cry went up from the crowd that had gathered in the hall, and Francis shuddered. The hatred of the crowd was so thick, it was almost tangible, all aimed at the young child and unconscious boy in the cart.

"What happened?" Francis asked the man who had come running in.

"Well, from wha' I can gather" he responded, "Tha' girly is the daughter of the fatass in office right now, an' that boy on the groun' out col' an' whatnot's his son, an' the big woman's the Nanny. They were drivin' through here, an' approached our base…so we caught 'em!"

"This isn't going to end well…" Francis muttered to Jack, who had sidled up to the blonde nation, a look of concern on his face.

"Shouldn't we interfere?" Jack asked, his face concerned.

Francis shook his head. "No. Our mission was to save Alfred. We failed. Don't do anything. We need this organization's help to get back home, and don't need to anger them…"

"Francis!" Jack hissed, "The girl-!"

"They're going to kill her. Look at her. She knows. I don't know why she came here, knowing that only death awaited her, but she did…Poor girl."

"We're just going to sit here?!" Jack sounded enraged.

"Yes" Francis shook his head, "Jack, damnit don't you get it? It's a revolution. A third one. People die during revolutions. "Something's got to happen now or something's got to give…" There's really nothing you can do about it…" Francis's eyes were hard, his face uncharacteristically worn, "I would know…"

"Let's hang 'em!" someone cried. The girl looked down on the crowed, and Francis felt his heart clench. She was so young, only six at oldest. And yet, even though she had down no wrong, even though her only sin was being related to that Pig…she would die. The only thing he was unable to understand was the _calmness_ with which the girl was assessing the whole situation. She did not struggle, but simply stood there, her hands bound and expression tired. She seemed done already, done with living, done with this world, and only too eager to pass into the next.

By then the crowd had worked itself into a maddened frenzy. Francis grit his teeth knowing it was only a matter of time. _Louis…Louis Charles…_he winced, trying to will the images of the young boy away, trying to forget the terrified screams as he was ripped from his mother, for his "re-education"…and what had he, what had Francis done? He had stood there and watched. Watched as the boy was abused, watched as he was beaten, starved, and watched as he finally gave into "the red death" and died.

Francis looked away. This wasn't his business. This wasn't his nation, wasn't his child. There really was nothing he could do about it, save hold Jack back and prevent the younger nation from committing some uncorrectable folly. He knew that what he was doing might be condemned as cowardly by some, but was it really? If he acted and tried to save the girl, there was no telling if the nations would be able to return to their respective countries. Was the life of a single child worth the lives of all the citizens of France, of the United Kingdom, of Australia, of Germany, of Lithuania, of Canada? At least this child's death would be quick. Painless even.

The crowd seemed to finally reach its maddened climax. Finally, a single gunshot rang out, and the girl dropped, dead. The large woman next to her jerked at the rope binding her, but a second gunshot put a stop to her struggling. The crowd cheered, clearly intent on killing the unconscious boy next.

"STOP."

The voice rang out, loud and clear, somehow silencing the mob. Everyone in the hall turned, staring at the source of the voice; Arthur, who was still sitting by Alfred's coffin.

Arthur stood, his face hidden partially by his bangs. "Wait. Don't kill him." He reached into his belt and drew out a gun, "I want to do this myself. I want to kill that bastard…he looks too much like Alfred. I…I want to destroy him, destroy this _fake_ America with my own hands."

The crowd looked at Arthur. "Arthur" Francis muttered gently, crossing over to the nation and grabbing his arm, "Look…you aren't well. You know better than to seek revenge, it only leads to an endless cycle of violence…Come. You've lived long enough to know that…"

Arthur shook his head, wrenching his arm out of Francis's grasp. "No. I want this. I need this. Revenge, closure, I have to do this." He walked forward, the silent crowd parting the way as he approached the cart where the boy lay.

He really did look like Alfred. The same face, the same hair, almost everything was the same. However, Arthur recalled Alfred's body almost too well. It was covered in scars, from battles and injuries he had endured as a nation. The boy in the car before him had no scars whatsoever. His skin was clear and unbroken, not marred with the reminders of past conflicts.

Arthur raised the gun, his hand shaking, his breath coming out in short gasps. He could see his vision start to blur as tears formed in his eyes. Why was he crying? He wanted this. He wanted revenge, wanted the boy dead…So why was he hesitating?

The boy suddenly moaned, his eyelids fluttering, his body suddenly returning to the world of the living. Arthur felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. Fine. So be it. He would let the boy wake up, let him realize he was going to die before he pulled the trigger.

He was now opening his eyes, so blue, just like Alfred's, and blinking as he tried to take in his surroundings. He sat up slowly, clutching his head and moaning, "Sydney, what the hell was in th-?" he suddenly broke off as he saw Arthur.

"You are going to die" Arthur said, cocking the gun, "Your father-"

"IGGY!"

The boy had jumped out of the cart, and thrown himself at Arthur, knocking the gun out of the nation's hand and throwing the nation onto the ground.

"Wh…wha…" Arthur was gasping, trying to get his wind back as the boy on top of him trapped him in an overly-enthusiastic bear hug.

"How did you find me? I mean, I knew you were coming, but geez, I really thought I was going to die! I really didn't want to, y'know, but I just kinda accepted it at that point…How did you get me out? Where are we? Is Mattie with you?" Arthur tried to shove the boy off, only finally succeeding when he pinched the boy in the stomach.

"Ow!" the larger blonde finally pulled back, rubbing where Arthur had pinched him, "Geez Iggy, that hurt! If you wanted me off-"

"Who are you!?" Arthur interrupted, staring at the boy before him.

"What do you mean? Iggy, are you ok?" the boy leaned forward, and Arthur flinched back.

"No! No, who are you!? Answer the question!"

"Geez Iggy, ok. Chill out. It's me. Alfred."

"Wha-NO! You can't be Alfred! Alfred's dead!"

"No…I'm alive…what are you talking about? Have you been drinking again?"

Arthur seized the other blonde's shirt and pulled it up, searching for the scar that Alfred had gotten from the Civil War; a long, pale scar that stretched right across the nation's stomach.

There was nothing there.

"You're not Alfred" Arthur responded, shaking his head and pointing, "Alfred had a scar there."

The boy took the shirt and peered down to where Arthur was pointing. "Hmmm…you're right. That's strange…" he reached down and rubbed his stomach. As if by magic, the skin peeled away, revealing the exact scar.

"Well that's odd" Alfred said, frowning, "Somebody put make-up on it…I wonder why." He inspected further up his torso. "They put make up over this one too…" he rubbed away at his chest, "And this one!"

Arthur was watching the nation before him, watching as the make-up peeled away, as those familiar scars were revealed…his mouth was hanging open, tears were swelling in his eyes. It was Alfred. Alfred was alive. Alfred was not dead, had not hanged that day. Alfred was alive. Alfred was _alive_.

"You…you…Al…ALFRED!" sobbing, Arthur threw himself into the other's arms, clinging onto him, because yes, yes, it was Alfred, he was real, he wasn't dead, and he was _with_ him. After 15 years, after a decade and a half away from him, his Alfred, his _America_ had finally returned.

"Shh…c'mon Arthur. Calm down." Alfred smiled, stroking the other nation's hair. Arthur finally pulled away after a few minutes, still sniffling; Alfred smiled down at him, "There. See? Now if you excuse me, I have an idiot kid to find. That damn Sydney did something with the hamburger he gave me…"

"Wait" Arthur asked, "What do you mean? Who's Sydney?"

"Ah, he's fine. Don't worry Arthur." Alfred responded, waving his hand, "He's the Pig's son, but he's not a bad kid…Except he came in the other day…what is today anyways? Never mind. Anyways, he came in a few hours before I was going to get executed, you need to tell me how you managed to get me out of there by the way, and he gave me this hamburger…But it was laced with something, cuz as soon as I took a bite, I passed out. I have no idea why he wanted to drug me though."

"Wait…didn't they say that…the President's son looked exactly like you…"

"Yea" Alfred shrugged, "It was kinda an uncanny semblance actually…I mean, you couldn't really tell us apart except for the scarring…he was a bit smaller than me too…"

Arthur stared up at him, his mouth hanging open. "Al…Alfred…" Arthur said.

"Yea?"

Wordlessly, Arthur pointed to the coffin. Frowning slightly, Alfred stood, "Did someone die…oh my god."

The nation dropped by the side of the coffin, grasping the dead boy's hand, "He's dead." He said simply, looking up at Arthur, confusion evident on his face.

"Ye…yes…"

"I…" Alfred shook his head, "I don't understand…" the nation looked lost, bewildered, his blue eyes widened and his mouth slightly agape "He…he always said he was so afraid of death…He read a lot, and h-oh…no."

"What?"

"The last book" Alfred breathed, "The last book he was reading…and his promise…I…my god, _my god_…"

"What!?"

"He…he promised to get me out…no matter what…and the book…goddamnit! He must have gotten the idea from there…"

"What book?"

Alfred shook his head, looking back down at the dead boy in the coffin, "_A Tale of Two Cities_"

"_A Tale of Two Cities_…Sydney" Arthur gasped, "Sydney Carton. He…"

"Made the ultimate sacrifice" Alfred murmured, shaking his head. "I…I..." he stood, shoving his hands into the pockets of the pants he was wearing, "There's something here…" he muttered, drawing out a piece of folded paper.

"What is it?"

Alfred unfolded it "A note" he responded before clearing his throat and reading.

"_Alfred, if you've read this, that means I am dead. Or maybe my plan failed after all and you just happened to find this. Either way, if you have this, it means I am probably never going to see you again. You probably know where I got this idea from. It was the only way I could see to save you. I know you think your people don't need you. I know you think that your people are fine without you. I'm sorry, but you're wrong. _

_Your people need a leader. You're right when you say the American people will not stand for such injustice, for such blatant disregard to basic human rights. You're right when you say the American people will fight, will die for freedom, but you forget one thing. They need unity. They need one leader, one head that will organize them. Remember our history lessons? Remember the great Chinese dynasties, the Khanates? They all had the same resources, but the reason that Shi Huangdi, that Genghis Khan, that these empires were able to exist was because they were all united under one powerful leader. Unite your people._

_Goddamnit, Alfred. I don't care if you were ready to die. I don't care what you think. Your people need you, America needs you. Don't you dare give up on me. Make my death actually worth something. _

_-Sydney _

_PS: Make sure nothing happens to Ana, ok? She's all I have left, so please protect her. _

* * *

**..but Ana's already dead. yea. i suck. i'm sorry, while some ppl may think ana's death was just a random pointless death, it really wasn't. i was trying to show that, even though the FIA are technically the "Good guys" they are just as capable of committing acts of atrocity...any human mob that gets frienzied enough is.'**

**and Louis Charles was the son of Marie Antoinette and was supposed to be king of france...until the revolution where they took him away from his mother for "re-education" and basically starved and beat him until he died of TB. (i called it red death b/c i liek poe. srsly, love that man) Yea. anyways, in case you can't tell yet, i kinda have an obsession with revolutions. the french revolution in particular. blame my WHAP teacher...**

**there's two? i think...quotes in here...and the quote in the last chapter was totally obvious, (sydney's last words, a tale of two cities) sooo yeap. almost done! just hang in there a little longer!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Yea. Sorry for the late update. I had mock trial (made it to state!) and college interviews all last weekend, got sick, and just found out I have to pay nearly 700 bucks to fucking college board. WHY ARE APS SO EXPENSIVE!?!?!? ;A; so yea. my life's over. on the bright side, i finally got accepted to a college! it's my back-up, but still, it's nice to have some reassurance...**

**Ok. enough about my fail life. Author's notes! In my head cannon, the nations all have some emotinal influence over their ppl, but not really a lot. So the nations can technically influence their ppl, but they don't control them. America, of all the nations has the least influecne b/c America has always been about the individual. Just a note. :D Oh, and I lied. There's going to be one more chapter. **

**OH. AND CANADA AMERICA 5-3. FUCK YES. AAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!!! sorry, if you're canadian, but i live right on the canada-america border, so...yea. a lot of tension, and I MUST DEFEND MY COUNTRY!!!...on the other hand, my lab partner said that if i didn't stop rubbing it in her face, she wouldn't let me copy her chem notes...damnit, i need to stop falling asleep in class....**

**Ch. 14: Move foward**

_

* * *

_

_Sydney took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He was leaning against the wall just around the corner of Alfred's room. Next to him, he had set the briefcase he had been carrying down, his hands too sweaty to retain his grip on it any longer. _

Calm down…calm down…_he mentally berated himself, running over the plan in his head one last time. Ana hadn't seemed particularly pleased with the plan, but…He shook his head. He couldn't think of Ana now. Hopefully, Alfred's influence would be able to protect her from the raging throngs that had begun to spring up all over the land...He stooped over, picking up his briefcase once more, and with one final deep breath, rounded the corner. _

_After a rather brief and somewhat annoying conversation with the guard, Sydney was in Alfred's room._

"_Hey, what's up?" Alfred had asked, upon seeing the boy enter._

_Sydney smiled, trying to suppress the fear that was bubbling in his chest. It wouldn't do for Alfred to get wind of what he was planning to do. "Here" he said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a greasy hamburger wrapped in wax paper, "I heard you really liked these…"_

"_Sweet!" Alfred had responded, bounding off the bed and grabbing the sandwich from Sydney's hand. Sydney frowned. He didn't get it. How could Alfred be so calm about dying, so composed? It was as if he was just going out for a walk soon, and would come back, "I don't get it" Sydney muttered, interrupting Alfred before he could take a bite. _

"_Get what?" _

"_I…I…you. I know you've explained this to me, but I don't get how you can…can just be so calm about this!? You're going to die! Die! How…how can you just sit there…and eat!?"_

_Alfred looked at the hamburger, "I suppose it's because I'm hungry…?"_

"_No!" Sydney shook his head, "It doesn't makes sense! I'm so afraid to die, so how can you…be so damn _calm _about it!? Aren't you afraid of what lies on the other side!?"_

_Alfred smiled, "Sydney, I told you. I've lived long enough. Yea, by nation standards, I'm pretty young, but I've been around for a few centuries…One day, your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it is worth watching. My life, I feel is worth watching. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will. I look back at my life, see all I've done, all I've been through, and feel that that's enough."_

"_But you could do so much more! Don't you think life is worth living!?"_

"_Life? It's Death that makes life worth living for."_

"_But…but…"_

"_Sydney" Alfred interrupted him, smiling, "I'm ready. I have a few regrets…I would like to see Arthur and Mattie again, but…" he shook his head, "Sydney, I'm ready. I am ready to meet my Maker." He smirked slightly before continuing, softly, "Whether my maker is prepared for the ordeal of meeting me is another matter." With that Alfred took a bite of the hamburger, quickly chewing it and swallowing it down. No sooner had he done so, when his eyes widened slightly in surprise. He let out a small gasp, and sent a confused look at Sydney before he slumped back on the bed, unconscious. _

"_Well, I'm sorry Alfred" Sydney said softly, "But your Maker is just going to have to wait."_

_He stripped off the nation's clothes, leaving on only Alfred's underwear. He then took off his own clothes, leaving on only his briefs as well. Taking a pen out of his briefcase, Sydney studied the nation's body carefully, marking on his own where Alfred's scars were. There was one across the chest, some on the upper torso, the arms, legs, and of course, the scarring on the back of his hand. Once he had finished, he reached into the briefcase and pulled out a small make-up kit. He had stolen it from the ladies in the TV production crew, and proceeded, to the best of his abilities, to hide Alfred's scars. He finished in about an hour, and then, with some difficulty, proceeded to dress the unconscious nation in his own clothes. _

_He then reached into the briefcase again, this time drawing out some eyeliner, lipstick, petroleum jelly, some cream, cotton balls, and various make-up applicators. Staring at the assortment of items before him, he sighed and cast the sleeping Alfred one last look before he got to work. Though he wasn't an expert in make-up, he had talked to one of the make-up ladies (one who had also worked in that strange "Hollywood" Alfred had once mentioned) and she had taught him how to make fake scars. His first attempt had been a disaster, but he had practiced with her for quite some time and had gotten rather good at it._

_Once he had finished adding on the fake scarring, he picked up Alfred's clothes and dressed himself, completing the entire look with a pair of glasses he fished out of his briefcase. He stashed the briefcase under the bed, taking care that it was hidden and out of sight. Then, he walked over to the bed were the unconscious Alfred lay, and started talking loudly, his words meaningless jumble, but tone constantly fluctuating. Once he had "argued" with himself for a few minutes, he hoisted Alfred's body up and lowered it face down to the floor, taking care to remove the nation's glasses first and putting them in his back pockets. He then reached into his briefcase again, pulled out a knife, and cut his finger, squeezing a couple of drops of blood onto Alfred's hair and smearing some more onto the base of the lamp by the bedside table. _

_Here he paused. He knew what he was about to do was, well, suicide. He could stop now. There was still time to back out. He could smear off the make-up, change the clothes…no. Taking a deep breath, grabbed the base of the lamp, and screamed, "Security! SECURITY!!!" he cried out a few more times before raising the lamp up and hitting it against the bureau by the side of the bed, then jumping up and down for a second thump. The door burst open and the guard rushed in, pausing a second as he studied the scene before him, then pounced on Sydney. _

_The next few minutes seemed to somewhat blur together. He knew Ana came in, and he saw the way she looked at him, scared, uncertain…but beyond that, he couldn't really remember. Suddenly, it seemed, Alfred was gone, and Sydney was alone in the room…_

_Sydney stare at his hands…he had less than an hour less to live. He sat down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking. _

"One day, your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it is worth watching. My life, I feel is worth watching. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will. I look back at my life, see all I've done, all I've been through, and feel that that's enough."

_Sydney frowned. Had he done anything worth watching? No. His entire life he had been a coward, too afraid to speak out, too intimidated to stop his father. But…hopefully, hopefully by saving Alfred, his death would create an America that could live forever. An America that could triumph against all odds, surpass all expectations. Sydney smiled, thinking back on his history lessons. It was a shame…there was so much more to learn that he would never know. But one thing he had seen, one thing he had been positive of was that Alfred had done it before. He had surpassed all expectations, he had become a powerful nation, born of nothing but dreams and ideals. If he could overcome all the boundaries he had already surmounted, Sydney was confident that Alfred could push past this one, could restore America to its former glory. _

_The guard opened the door, and Sydney knew it was time. Now confident that his death was actually worth something, he stood and walked forward, his steps not faltering, his eyes finally cleared from all uncertainty. _

* * *

"Whaddya mean she's dead?"

"Alfred…" Arthur said, his eyes filled with remorse, "They…killed her."

Alfred looked at him dumbly, his mouth hanging open slightly, "Who's…they?"

"The people that helped get us to you…your people."

"The FIA or whatever they are?"

Arthur nodded. Alfred looked away, the frustration he was feeling clearly expressed on his face, "Damnit" he growled, "One thing. He gave up his life and he asked me to do one thing in return. Protect his sister, protect Ana! And I _couldn't fucking even do that!_"

"Alfred, there's nothing you could have done about it" Arthur reasoned, reaching out to the frustrated nation.

"They're my people!" Alfred shook his head, "I should be able to influence them to _some _extent!"

"You know that's not true, Alfred" Arthur responded, shaking his head, "Of all the nations, you have the _least_ control over your people. You made that choice when you became a nation."

Alfred said nothing, looking down at the coffin he sat next to, "I'm sorry." He said, apologizing to the dead boy in the coffin before standing and walking to the end of the hallway.

"Alfred?" Arthur called after him, "Where are you going?"

"I need some time, alone." Alfred called back over his shoulder, "I…need to think about some things."

With that, Alfred disappeared through the door, leaving the hall in a state of quiet shock.

* * *

Arthur found Alfred, a few hours later, in one of the empty bedrooms of the FIA base. "Alfred." Arthur said, standing in the door, "We need to talk."

Alfred let out a grunt, which Arthur took as a yes. He entered the room and sat down on a chair, opposite the large one Alfred had curled up on.

"Alfred" Arthur said, "Look, I know you feel bad about Ana, about Sydney, but you can't just sit here. Your people need you. Remember why Sydney died; he realized that the American people needed a leader."

Arthur paused, looking at Alfred. The younger nation said nothing, and Arthur continued.

"You can't blame yourself for Ana's death…There was nothing you could do about it."

"Yes there was" Alfred shook his head, "My people killed her. I am a representation of my people. Therefore, I could have _done_ something."

"Alfred, you couldn't have, and you know it." Arthur replied, "As nations, we all have some influence over our people; how they feel, how they act, and things like that. Most nations don't have much control over their people, but Alfred, remember, when you became a nation, when you…left me, you chose to have virtually _no_ control over your people. You chose to let your people exist, as individuals, driven by nothing but their own emotions, not that of their nation. Isn't that why you're so diverse? Don't you see Alfred? There's nothing you could have done about it."

Alfred said nothing, and Arthur stood, still frowning.

"This isn't like you Alfred. You don't give up so easily" Arthur said, walking over to the door, "Get up. Rally your people, unite them. Don't let that boy's death be in vain...do something with it. Goddamnit, remember…remember your revolution? Remember when you…decided to become your own nation? Do the same thing! You're America. You don't just sit here and allow others to control you…that's why you left me, isn't it?" Arthur paused. He had never talked about the revolution willingly. Perhaps it was the stress. Perhaps it was the desire just to see Alfred back to his old self. Either way, Arthur knew that Alfred needed this; he needed to be reminded of who he was and what he had done, "When you're ready" Arthur said, turning away, "We-I'll be waiting."

* * *

"And that's why I'm saying we should just attack them!"

"Are you an you fucking cunt? We can't do that!"

"CUNT!? YOU SEXIST JERK!"

"WELL AT LEAST I'M NOT SOME BIBLE-THUMPING GUN-TOTING TEXAS MILITIA NUTJOB!"

"WELL AT LEAST I'M NOT SOME FUCKING COMMIE!"

Arthur looked over at Mattie who shrugged helplessly. The leaders of the FIA had come together in order to form some sort of attack plan on the American government, but so far, the only thing that had been accomplished was name-calling and yelling. The nations had tried to interfere, but as the people were Alfred's, not theirs, their arguments had little merit. Brittany, as the leader of the FIA had tried to pull the people under control, but they drowned out her voice with their yelling, and now she sat next to Arthur, glaring at the thronging mob.

"Fucking morons…" she muttered under her breath, "Never listen to anyone, always shoving their godforsaken ideals down your throat…"

The door to the room opened, but in the din, it was hardly noticed. Arthur looked up, his expression initial startled, but soon falling into an easy smile as he saw that familiar hair of golden hair and cowlick bobbing over the crowd. As Arthur watched, Alfred clambered atop of a chair, a megaphone clutched in one hand.

"EXCUSE ME"

Amplified by the tool in his hand, Alfred's voice boomed out over the crowd, temporarily silencing them in shock. Alfred smiled and lowered the tool, "Now that I've gotten your attention" he said, "I would like to clarify a few things."

He paused, but nobody spoke up, and he continued, "Ok. So. Firstly, this clearly isn't working. We need a central leader, a central power in this case-"

"And lemme guess; that somebody's gonna be you." a voice called from the crowd, loud and challenging.

Alfred stopped speaking, and looked out into the crowd, his face resolute, "Why, yes. Me" He responded simply.

The crowd looked up at Alfred, stunned by the nation's blunt answer. Alfred smiled slightly, opened his mouth, and started speaking.

"There comes a time in the affairs of men when they must prepare to defend, not their homes alone, but the tenets of faith and humanity on which their churches, their government, and their very civilization are founded." Alfred paused, glaring out at the now silent crowd, "And when this time comes, when the very foundations, the very beliefs of what we espouse, what we are willing to die for are challenged, when something threatens what our forefathers have fought, no _died_ for, there are two paths we may take.

This is the turning point. When you decide between these two, when you swallow the red pill or the blue pill, there is no going back. You may either fall asleep, back in bed, ignorant, spineless, but _alive_. You may sit there, cowards, unwilling to risk what our ancestors were so willing to sacrifice. You can lie back, and let the numbness take over.

Or you can see just how deep the rabbit hole goes. You can wake up, stand up, and _fight_. Defy gravity. Defy fate. Defy all the laws of man, of the universe. Ignore what they tell you. Ignore them when they tell you that you will fall." Here, Alfred paused, looking directly at Arthur, his blue eyes blazing in feral _defiance_. Arthur felt his stomach clench uncomfortably, remembering the last time Alfred had worn that expression. The last time Alfred had pushed his people to defy the norm, defy gravity.

The world had laughed then. Old Europe, convinced the young nation, promoting the ridiculous belief that the Common Man could rule, watched in anticipation of complete failure. There had been bets. He wouldn't last a year. Ok, a decade. A century. The time eventually bled together; weeks into months, months into years, years into decades, decades into centuries…and America hadn't fallen. He had grown. Powerful. Young. And Goddamnit, so _defiant_. The world had hated him for this. That brash _insubordination_. That total belief that determination and hard work could get you anywhere; you could do anything, go anywhere. Rules? Set norms? What about them? "Fuck that" You think I can't survive? I'll expand. You think I can't keep up with you? I'll surpass you. You think I won't be able to make it across the world? I'll go to the moon.

"The question isn't who's going to let me; it's who's going to stop me." Alfred's voice, strong and certain broke Arthur's reverie, "And that is nobody. Nobody can stop me; nothing can stand in my way" _again with that defiance! _"This is the path that all men must follow. Fight. Stand up for what you believe in, what you know to be your natural rights. Freedom is the right to tell people what they do not want to here. And I tell you this now; many of you will die. Many will fall, many will perish. But is that not the ultimate destiny of all of us? Death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily. This death we face everyday; it is not a physical death, but it is a death nonetheless. It is a death of our very _humanity_, of our proof as men.

To every man there comes in his lifetime that special moment when he is figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered a chance to do a very special thing, unique to him and fitted to his talents. This is your moment. Rise. Fight. As individuals, as a whole! As men, as women; as black, as white. Put aside your differences. Unite under one banner! Unite under one country! Unite under one people, under one glorious title, AS _AMERICANS!_" by now Alfred was yelling, his fists in the air, his face flushed in excitement. The crowd had been silent the entire speech, hanging onto Alfred's every word. As Alfred lowered his arms, there was a silence.

Then all hell broke loose. The crowd started cheering, calling, whooping "USA! USA!" the chanting grew louder and louder, punctured by cries as the leaders, who had only been arguing each other minutes before jumped up and down hugging each other.

Alfred beamed, the cold determination in his eyes now replaced with pure happiness. He looked over to Arthur, meeting the other nation's troubled, yet confident green eyes with his own, and flashed a thumbs up. Arthur, still somewhat startled, smiled and nodded back, catching the movement of Alfred's lips, _"And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country__"_

* * *

**SO MANY QUOTES I LOST TRACK. yea. have fun.**

**last times were pretty easy, no? "Lead me, follow me, or get out of my way" and "Something's got to happen, or something's gonna give."-Patton and Les Mis. :D**

**and after this fic, i was thinking about starting my lifelong (ok, so only since I've gotten into hetalia-long) dream of a french revolution fic! problem is, idk if there are already a billion out there (i'm sure there are) but i've yet to read them. if you've read any good ones, could you give me the title/link? thanks a million. **

**reviews are always love~**


	15. Chapter 15

**Last chapter! Sorry that it's late. Personally, I blame Canada. My friends and I bet on the outcome of the hockey matches...and i lost...so i had to make cookies/brownies...and..yea. i've never cooked in my life, so i screwed up four batches (one of which was the pre-made cookie dough stuff...don't ask how) and melted/destroyed some kitchenware and then set my oven on fire....the result was a giant, only slightly burned cookie..and some brownies. i fail so hard. ;A;**

**Anywho! I'd really liek to thank everyone who has red this story to the end! I really appreciate all comments, anon or not (only problem with anon is that i can't tell you directly how much i appreciate it) but i really really do! **

**Okies. I'll shut up now. Hope you enjoy!**

**Ch. 15: Conclusion**

* * *

"What do you mean you can't find them!?"

"Sir, I'm sorry, but it appears that the nanny has…"

"THEN FIND THE NANNY!"

"Sir! Yes! Sir, we've been trying!"

"DON'T TRY! DO IT!" the "President" roared, his face red with fury and coated in a light sheen of sweat. The man he had been talking to let out a small, "eep!" and scrambled out of the Oval Office, allowing the door to slam shut behind him.

"Sir…what will you do if…?"

The "President" looked up at the man who had spoke up, one of his top aides. Though he couldn't remember the other man's name to save his life, he had come to rely quite heavily on him, addressing him as "you" or "hey".

"They won't touch him", the fat man at the desk ground out through clenched teeth, "They…they wouldn't dare…"

"You don't sound so sure…"

"NO!" the "President" slammed a hand down on the desk. He had been feeling odd lately. Uncomfortable. Ever since that day that he had finally succeeded in killing that bastard, he had felt off…like something was wrong. Sydney had also disappeared that day, kidnapped, along with Ana by that bitch of a Nanny. They had found the actual chauffer, tied up in a garden shed, and after the man had explained what had happened, search parties had been sent out all over the nation. However, none of the parties had come back with anything. About a week had passed since he had last seen Sydney, and the man was starting to become more and more hysterical.

"They won't do anything to him", the fat man muttered, shaking his head, "They won't…they won't…"

"Sir!" an excited voice came from the hall, and a few seconds later, the doors to the Oval Office burst open. Another nameless aid rushed in, excitement shining in his eyes, "Sir! Sir, we found him!"

Springing to his feet, the "President" rushed to the aid, relief flooding his system, "Where?! Where is he!?"

"Here"

Some more aids came in; half-dragging, half-carrying what appeared to be a dazed and exhausted Sydney into the Oval Office.

"My boy!" the "President" sprang to his feet and rushed forward, grasping the boy's hand and shaking it enthusiastically, "My god! I was getting worried!" he stepped back from Sydney and looked up at him, a smile spreading across his bloated face. However, the smile soon faded, turning into a small frown. "Sydney…have you grown?"

Indeed, it appeared as if the boy had grown somewhat. His face also looked odd. A little older, a little more mature, and a little more…incomplete. As if it were missing a vital part of it.

"No…I don't think I have." Sydney said, looking somewhat unsure. "Why? Do I look different?"

The Pig stared up at Sydney for a second, his mouth slightly agape. That strange feeling…the odd suffocating sensation…it was intensifying. He shook his head, willing it away. It was just him imagination, just his nerves. Sydney was back, and all was well. "Did…did those FIA shits do anything to you?"

The boy shook his head, "I've pretty much been unconscious the whole time…"

"And Ana? Have you seen her?"

Something flickered over Sydney's face, and he bit his lip before shaking his head, a quick, spasmodic motion, "No. No, I don't know what happened to her."

The "President" nodded, and clasped a hand onto the boy's back, smiling up at him. "Well, you're safe. That's all that matters. Now, why don't you just go to bed and rest some. We can restart the lessons tomorrow…"

Sydney smiled and nodded before turning stiffly from the Pig and exiting the room.

* * *

Once back in Sydney's room, Alfred bolted the door, checking to make sure that nobody was around.

"Running scans" Mei's voice sounded in his ear. There was a brief pause, then "Scans complete. No signs of any cameras or other recording devices."

Alfred let out a sigh of relief, "That's wonderful, Mei. And I've got to hand it to you…this technology's freaking awesome…might have to get some myself."

Mei smiled, "Ah…thank you. I am personally relieved that you are fine. All of us were completely ecstatic to learn that you had not actually died…"

"Damn right!" Gilbert's voice interrupted Mei's, "Fuck kid, if you had died, who would I rely on to steal UN badges for me!?"

"…so that's how you get into the meetings. Alfred, once this is done, I am personally going to beat you into a bloody pulp."

Alfred laughed, "Sorry about that Iggy" he said, smiling lightly, "But who am I to deny someone who wants to be involved in our world meetings? C'mon. You know Gilbert makes things more interesting."

"If you can call releasing a flock of drunken yellow chicks interesting…"

"Exactly."

Arthur bit his lip in annoyance, trying to ignore Gilbert's rambunctious laughter. They had taken out Ludwig's ear and eyepiece, as the German nation's eye color was closest to Alfred's own (Apparently, Im Yong Soo had been lying. You could remove the earpieces.) and equipped Alfred with them.

"Well, how was it Al? Being back in the White House?"

Mattie's voice filtered over the earpiece, and Alfred smiled, "It was kinda sick Mattie…I mean, touching that pig was nauseating in itself, but his reaction? He didn't even give me more than a handshake! Can you imagine it? Your son goes missing for almost a week, you think he's in the hands of your enemy, and you just shake his hand and send him off to bed!? I can see why Sydney didn't exactly get along with the man…"

Alfred trailed off, looking at the room around him. It was Sydney's, of course, as that was who Alfred was pretending to be at the moment. It was sparsely furnished, with a bed, a bureau and a desk. There were no posters, no books, nothing to indicate that a young adolescent had once lived here. Alfred sighed, and walked slowly over to the bed, plopping down on it.

"Al…are you ok?" Matthew's concerned voice asked.

"Yea…yea, I'm fine Mattie." Alfred responded. Apart from Arthur, Matthew had clearly been the one most affected by Alfred's "death". Once Alfred had finished giving his speech, the northern nation had finally, _finally_ flung himself at his brother. Crying and laughing at the same time, he had latched onto Alfred's neck, hugging him as though Alfred would be gone again tomorrow…Alfred had laughed and hugged him back, tears also forming in the corners of his eyes. There was something between the two… Matthew had always been with Alfred. Before Arthur, before Francis, his brother, his dear, annoying, fatass of a brother had always been there, each step of the way; fighting, teasing, laughing, but always, _always_ there. Always reliable, always dependable. Overprotective, somewhat paranoid, but goddamnit, he _loved_ him.

"Well…you know the plan." Matthew said, his voice somewhat subdued.

"Yea…has Arthur managed to get his troops together yet?"

"I'm on it" Arthur's voice responded, sounding somewhat distracted, "I'll be able to get the troops, Ivan will supply the oil-"

"Wait, what?!" Alfred exclaimed somewhat taken aback, "When the fuck did that bastard get involved in this?!"

"Let's just say I was bored, da?" Ivan's voice suddenly interrupted the conversation, startling all parties that had been involved. The giant nation had taken the mike from Mei, and now held it over her head and talked into it, ignoring the Asian nation as she unsuccessfully jumped time and time again, trying to retrieve the mike.

"Ivan…" Alfred growled, clearly not too pleased upon hearing the nation's voice, "Why are you doing this? What is this going to cost me?"

"Nothing" Ivan responded cheerfully, "Kiku had me sign a contract and everything. It's in ink; you can see it once you get out of there if you want."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"You know what I'm asking, you fucking bastard."

"Well then" Ivan smirked, "I think you know damn well why. The world would be so boring without you. Without that ambition to crush, without that spirit to fight. Let's just leave it at that before I get too sentimental, da?"

Alfred let out a tiny smirk of his own, "Sure. Fine"

Ivan smiled and let the mike fall to the ground in a clatter, leaving a flustered and rather furious Mei to pick it up.

"…Anyways…" Arthur coughed awkwardly, trying to break up the tension that had settled over the group with the sudden presence of Ivan, "My troops are now ready. They'll be able to act in a moment's notice."

"Mine as well" Matthew added, "And the FIA's ready too."

"Good" Alfred nodded, "There's only one thing we need to do then…Soon. Keep watching, so we'll know when."

* * *

The next morning, the "President" called Alfred down to his office. The nation, somewhat disoriented by the absence of Texas, appeared before the man, a small, polite smile on his face. Alfred wasn't entirely sure how Sydney behaved around his father, but had a general idea based on what the boy had told him.

"Sydney!" the Pig beamed up at Alfred, and beckoned to a chair opposite of the one he sat in. Alfred seated himself, and the "President" proceeded.

"As you know, before the incident, we were learning about the ropes of this job" he swept his fat hand around the Oval Office, "You've got the basics pretty much down. Now, we move to the more classified stuff. The stuff that makes America the most feared nation in the world."

An aide came in, carrying a large silver briefcase. The "President" beckoned him over, and the man set the suitcase on the desk, stepping away once he had done so.

"Now." The "President" spread his pudgy fingers over the briefcase, "What we have here are the codes. The codes to the Presidential suite, the codes to the army bases, and the codes" he paused dramatically, "to the numerous nuclear warheads we have positioned around the globe."

Alfred said nothing, his breath hitching in his throat. He had expected this to come; sooner preferably rather than later, but for it to come forward so soon could only be described as sheer luck.

"Do you mind if I…" Alfred gestured to the briefcase.

"Of course, my boy! Of course!" the Pig chuckled, a high wheezing sound, "It'll be yours someday…all yours…"

Alfred grabbed the handle of the suitcase, pausing for a few seconds. The others had started to move. He could hear Arthur in his ear, issuing orders, Gilbert giving coordinates (serious for once), and Mei conferring to Kiku about various types of weaponry. They should only take a few minutes…until then, Alfred had to hold onto the briefcase without raising suspicion. Again, lady luck seemed to be on his side, though, for the "President" did not seem to mind that "Sydney" was just standing there, a hand on the briefcase, and proceeded to prattle on until…

The doors to the oval office were flung open, and a group of about four aides came rushing in, their expressions panicked and their breaths coming out in short little bursts.

"Sir! Sir!" one of them cried out, "The FIA! They're moving! They've overwhelmed the White House guard and…"

The Pig jumped to his feet, "Well? What are you waiting for!? Call the army!"

"We can't!"

"What!?'

"They're occupied! British, Canadian, and Russian forces have suddenly attacked the army bases! Our troops are currently engaged in heavy warfare!"

The "President" said nothing, his face pale and shocked, his mouth hanging slightly agape. "how much time do we have?" he asked the aid, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.

"How about none."

The aids spun around, many of them crying out in fear and running away from the door as the nations, accompanied by several FIA members suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"It's over" Arthur said, cocking the gun in his hand and aiming at the "President", "Your regime is done. Just surrender now."

The Pig paled further, "Yo…you!!! You think you can stop me!?" he shook his head, "I feel sorry for your people, Kirkland. Have you forgotten? Have you forgotten the weaponry that America has?" he pointed a finger at Alfred, who stood behind him, still clutching the briefcase. "Sydney only has to open that case and punch a few buttons, and BAM! Half your population is dead!" he started laughing, a high frantic noise, "Dead! Your people! All of them!"

"I'm not Sydney."

The man paused, his laughter slowly dying down as he processed Alfred's words. "What…did you say…?" he asked, turning to stare at Alfred his mouth slightly agape, "Have you lost your mind, boy? They did something to you didn't the-"

"No. I'm not Sydney." With that, Alfred rubbed the back of his hand on his shirt, and lifted his right hand up, revealing the star-shaped scar.

The Pig said nothing for a few minutes, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to form coherent words, "Wha..ho…Sy..Alf…Where is…Sydney then!?" he finally managed to choke out, a slight edge of hysteria creeping into his voice.

Alfred said nothing.

"Where? Wait…who was that person that I…no….no…oh GOD YOU! YOU! YOU!!! MY…SON…MY…I…KILLED…!! YOU YOYOU YOU BASTARD! YOU!!!"

"It was his idea." Alfred said, quietly, "Do you get it now? Do you get what Sydney had become; what you had become?"

"YOU…I…SYDNEY…MY…"

"Sydney had become the new America, the replacement for me" Alfred continued, "But he wasn't the only one. You did too. You didn't realize it, did you? Where Sydney was young, idealistic; everything the New America was _supposed _to be, what you had originally intended it to be, you became corrupt, bloated, what the New America had actually turned into. This New America couldn't survive without the both of you; without Sydney, the people would see the true corruption, what this government really was. However, the ideal could not survive very long under the weight of the corruption" Alfred shook his head, "So, ultimately, the corruption killed the ideal. You killed Sydney. And with that, this New America lost its status as a nation. With only you, with only the corruption present, it was only a matter of time before the People revolted, before you fell. Sydney was your only chance of redemption; had you listened to your son, had you actually listened to the ideals, this New America may have succeeded."

"Y…You would have…died…"

"Yes. I would have died. You wouldn't have had to do anything. Had this New America succeeded, I would have lost my status as a nation, and been replaced. By you, by Sydney, I honestly don't know. But this New America was doomed from that revolution 15 years ago. Such bloodshed…" Alfred paused, his voice cracking slightly, "Do…do you remember that day? Do you? Do you remember how you…just killed them…their bodies…all mangled, twisted…burned to a crisp…and they pleaded…they _begged_. You killed the entire first family…" Alfred was shaking his head now, as if trying to clear the memories, "I…I…"

"But…Sydney…my…son…"

"A government born of such bloodshed could never survive, especially in America."

"It…my…"

"It's over."

Alfred turned away, knowing only too well what fate awaited the man. Sure enough, the members of the FIA that accompanied them rushed forward, intent on capturing him…

Gunshots rang out. Alfred spun around, surprised to find the Pig on the ground, dead, with the FIA members surrounding him, looking equally shocked.

"What just…"

"I'm sorry."

A woman stood in the doorway, beautiful and proud. A small handgun, still smoking, was clasped in her right hand. Her darks eyes flashed defiantly, and her entire stature was that of confidence and strength. She was clearly of Spanish descent, her striking face reflecting the fiery passion that was the Spanish woman. When she spoke, her voice was heavily accented, thick and rich, "I know what you wanted to do to him, and I'm sorry to have stopped you. But you must understand." Her eyes shifted to Alfred, who had not moved from where he stood, "I want to thank you." She said, "I want to thank you for everything you have done for me, for what your people have provided me with. And perhaps this is why I am truly sorry. For taking away the vengeance that was rightfully yours. But you must understand. When I look at him, I still see the man I met twenty-five years ago. The young, idealistic officer who swept me off my feet. I still see the man I love. I still see those beautiful blue eyes, the rich voice that spoke of a utopia. I could not let you do what you wanted to him. I had to save him." She held the gun to her own head, her intentions obvious. "My son is dead. My daughter is dead. And now, my husband lies dead, dead by my own hand. I hope you'll forgive me."

"Stop her!" one of the FIA members cried, rushing forward, even as she pulled the trigger.

"Look under the floorboards of the bed in the Lincoln Bedroom." She mouthed, her eyes never leaving Alfred's own. There was another bang, and she crumpled, dead like her family.

* * *

Matthew had insisted on accompanying Alfred into the Lincoln bedroom. After the death of the "President" and his wife, the FIA had moved fast, securing important documents, and altogether forgetting Alfred and the rest of the nations.

Alone, and with Arthur too occupied with his own troops to really help, the brothers had ventured into the Lincoln bedroom. Alfred moved the bed, his inhumane strength still present despite all that had occurred.

"What do you think it is…?" Matthew asked, looking at Alfred, uncertainty clouding his violet eyes.

"There's only one way to find out…" Alfred muttered. Grabbing the crowbar and hammer Matthew had brought, Alfred pried up several of the floorboards. Within a few minutes, he pulled out a long, slender metal box, and set it on the floor next to Matthew.

"It might be dangerous." Matthew cautioned as Alfred flipped open the clasps that held the box shut.

Alfred shook his head, "No…no, it's fine…" he muttered. He threw the lid open, revealing its contents. There were two scrolls of old parchment inside, and an envelope. Alfred reached forward, his face considerably paler and his hands shaking.

The nation picked up one of the parchments, and as Matthew watched on, unrolled it and read, "We the people of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the Common defence, promote Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Prosperity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of…America."

Alfred broke off and looked up at Matthew. Without another word, he dove into the box and pulled out the second roll of parchment, "When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of Earth …"

"Your…Constitution…and Declaration…" Matthew breathed.

Alfred stared at him. "Yes…yes…it's all here… he stared at the Constitution, and looked back into the box. There was a folder that had been covered up by the two documents, and Alfred pulled it out, opening it and looking through the papers that were in it.

"It's all here. All 27 amendments!" Alfred cried. He looked down, his eye catching the envelope. He picked it up, ripping it open and read it over quickly before frowning, "To whomever finds this." He read aloud, "What you hold in your hands is a document of invaluable historical value. It is the birth certificate and the laws that once governed the nation that was known as the United States of America. That nation is dead now, killed in the violence that shook it so many years ago…I can only hope that if you have found this, you are part of a new America, an America not ruled by the regime that destroyed this nation, an America that is truly free…use these documents to restore America, as a base to this new government. Or, if you find these during a time of peace, please, preserve these in memory of the nation that was once America."

Alfred finished reading and smiled grimly, "Well.." he said, "I'm still alive, aren't I?" he shook his head, "She must have saved it somehow…"

Matthew smiled, "Yea; yea…you are. Isn't it wonderful, though?"

Alfred looked over at Matthew, and then back at the documents in his hands. A small frown of uncertainty crossed his features. The two sat in silence for some time, before Alfred let out a small sniffle.

"Al, are you _crying_?!" Matthew asked shocked, leaning over to get a better view of his brother's face. Sure enough, tears were slowly leaking out of Alfred's eyes, falling to the ground and splashing on the hardboard.

"Ah…n..no" Alfred managed to choke out, lying through his teeth, "I'm jus..just…

"Al…c'mere" Matthew murmured, reaching out to his brother.

Alfred looked at Matthew, and instantly, the northern nation was shocked at how _vulnerable_ Alfred looked, "Al, what's wrong?" he asked, pulling his brother into a hug, "It's over…it's over…"

"I…I…" Alfred had given up trying to hide it, and was crying freely now, his shoulders shaking. He clung to the front of his brother's shirt, desperate, "Mattie…Mattie, I'm scared. What if…what if something like this happens again? What if I mess up again? I…I don't think I can do this a…again. What if…what if…" he hiccupped loudly and broke off, the torrent of unfinished questions clearly plaguing him.

"Al…" Matthew hugged his brother tighter, placing soft kisses in his hair, "C'mon this isn't like you. You're strong. You don't worry about the future. You push yourself, and remember? Screw the consequences!" Matthew smiled, "I can't believe I'm encouraging you to do that…Remember, I used to get so mad at you for that?"

Alfred managed a weak smile, "Y…yea." He said, loosening his grip on the front of Matthew's shirt.

"Nothing can stop the man with the right mental attitude from achieving his goal; nothing on earth can help the man with the wrong mental attitude." Matthew quoted.

"Jefferson?" Alfred let go of his grip on Matthew's shirt and sat slowly back up, "Never thought I'd hear you quoting him" he joked lightly.

Matthew smiled broadly. "C'mon. Let's get out there. We've got a nation to rebuild."

"There you are." Arthur's voice interrupted the two. The island nation stood in the doorway of the Lincoln bedroom, smiling lightly at the brothers, "Alfred." He nodded, "Your people are waiting."

Looking back at Matthew, Alfred smiled, then nodded. He stood, clutching the two precious documents in his hands. "_Nothing can stop the man with the right mental attitude from achieving his goal; nothing on earth can help the man with the wrong mental attitude"._

As he walked back to the Oval Office, with Matthew and Arthur at his side, Alfred couldn't help the broad grin that spread across his face.

The future seemed a whole lot brighter.

_**~Fin~**_

* * *

**Corny ending is corney. :D so...yeap! it's over! again, thanks a million for all your support on this fic! and yea...a lot of ppl were right in guessing that sydney was supposed to replace alfred, but since the new america was so fucked up, there had to be another side to it...which was the "President" wouldn't it be awful if he replaced alfred?**

**Quotes! Let's see if I can remember all of them from last time...**

**"There comes a time in the affairs of men when they must prepare to defend, not their homes alone, but the tenets of faith and humanity on which their churches, their government, and their very civilization are founded" -Roosevelt**

**Red pill/blue pill shit from the Matrix...and the rabbit hole thingy. (cuz alfred would totally quote that)**

**The whole "Defy Gravity" I was listening to Wicked. **

**"The question isn't who's going to let me; it's who's going to stop me."- Rand. LOVE HER **

**"Freedom is the right to tell people what they do not want to hear" -Orwell**

**"Death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily." -Napoleon**

**"To every man there comes in his lifetime that special moment when he is figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered a chance to do a very special thing, unique to him and fitted to his talents." -Churchill**

**"And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country_"_ -JFK. XD almost everyone got this...**

**There were some quotes here, but who/what they were from was pretty obvious. Anywho! thanks again for everyone that followed this story! **


	16. Doujin note

No, this is not another chapter. Sorry.

So, I know this fic already ended, but the amazing Akira-chan decided to adapt the fic into a doujin! I'm personally excited, espcially since I've never gotten anything for any fic I've written. Since Fanfiction is retarded, and won't let me post a link in a story, I posted the link to the first page on my account, so you can go check it out!

Again, thanks so much for reading this to the end, and please support Akira-chan in her doujin efforts...it's a long story (for a doujin) and she def. could use it!


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